#haven’t sat through and sorted through the clothes I need to donate either

[simplyghosting]

Productive procrastination: when you aren’t doing what you need to do, but by God, you’re going to do something

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

no grave can hold my body down – 1/2

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better. 

Word Count: 5,500 

A/N: I am very new to this fandom and extremely nervous to write something for it. To clarify, I have not read any of the comics. But I’ve watched a lot of the TV and movie adaptations, and have done a lot of research. Jason is much older in this – like 30? – and therefore the rest of the BatFam is older, as well. But this takes place after Jason Todd is resurrected, but is still on rocky territory with his family. 

Jason dropped down to the fire escape of his apartment with a quietness that seemed impossible for how large he was. 

On the other side of the small fire escape, Y/N sat with a blanket over her lap, a book in her hand, and a mug of coffee balanced perfectly on the metal grates. 

“Thought I told you not to wait up for me,” Jason greeted, knowing she noticed his arrival, but just kept reading her book. His book, to be precise. 

It was almost 4AM and Jason had called it a night after taking out an entire drug cartel. It had been a lot of waiting, until it finally led up to 20 minutes of utter chaos. He left them on a silver platter for the police to arrest them and actually clean up the mess.

Y/N finally looked up at him and he saw how tired her eyes seemed. But she gave him a soft smile, clearly happy to see him home and...alive. 

A pang of guilt went through him. He did that to her. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” she told him with a shrug. 

Jason slowly nodded. Then he nudged his head towards the book, “Jane Eyre again?”

She smirked. “It’s a comfort read.” 

He smiled back at her – which she couldn’t even see, because he was still wearing the red helmet that covered his entire head. 

“You shouldn’t stay out here so long. It’s too cold.”

“I was waiting for you,” she countered. 

“I thought you couldn’t sleep.”

“I couldn’t…because I was worried about you,” she finally admitted. 

There it was. 

“You have a voicemail on your cellphone. Alfred called,” she quickly added to change the subject.  

Jason left his personal cellphone at home when he was on patrol, not wanting any sort of pointless distractions. Y/N had a direct line to his comms if there was an emergency, which was the only thing he cared about. His old family could figure out ways to contact him if they really wanted to. But he didn’t go out of his way to give them that info. 

“Get inside before you catch a cold,” he told her as he nodded toward the open window. 

She chuckled at his attempt to sound stern. It was hard for her to take it seriously. But she listened to him anyway, knowing that if she tried to ignore him, it would end in him dragging her inside. And that was not a physical battle she ever had a chance at winning. 

30 minutes later, Y/N was laying in bed and still reading her book as Jason tried to erase the night. 

He always took long, scolding showers after patrol. Even if there was no blood to be washed away, there was always a need to cleanse himself of…something. 

Y/N had asked him if he was hurt as she crawled through the window back inside their apartment.

“I’m fine,” he’d insisted. 

But she knew “fine” just meant he didn’t need stitches, or bones reset, or the need to call the actual doctor he had a certain under-the-table deal with. She also knew she shouldn’t be surprised when he took off his clothes and she would see new bruises and shallow cuts covering his skin. 

Jason finally crawled into bed with nothing but his black briefs. His hair still wet from the burning shower he just took. 

He let out a sigh and stared up at the ceiling. 

It was always a battle for Y/N, trying to figure out when to leave Jason to his thoughts and when to force him to talk. She knew he couldn’t drown himself in his own mind. But she also knew she couldn’t pretend to be his therapist. 

“J?�� She asked him softly as she put her book down. 

“Hmm?” He asked, looking at her. 

“You OK?”

He nodded. 

She let it be. 

Jason turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “Alfred has a foundation to raise money for under-funded schools in Gotham. It’s all him, but it has Bruce’s name all over it so all the rich assholes will want to save face with the Wayne family by donating.”

“I can support that type of manipulation,” Y/N said with a smirk. 

“He holds a gala at Wayne Manor for it every year. Gets them at least a mil every time.”

She listened closely. 

Then Jason looked at her again. “He asked me to come this year.”

“Oh,” her face fell. 

Jason had told Y/N about his tumultuous relationship with his family. While he mended most of the damage with his brothers, he wasn’t quite willing to do so with Bruce. Y/N didn’t try to push Jason to reconcile with his adoptive father. She understood his heartbreak and frustrations there. She wasn’t a huge fan of Bruce herself after learning the damage he’d done to her boyfriend. 

But it was because of the past traumas that Y/N hadn’t met any of Jason’s hodgepodge, vigilante family. 

She also guessed that it was his overprotectiveness of her that stopped him from wanting to fully submerge her in that part of his life. To Jason, the less she knew about the Bat Family, the safer she was. 

“He asked me to bring you, too.” Jason suddenly added. 

Y/N blinked. “I…I didn’t realize they knew about me.”

He smirked at that. “Of course they do.”

“Even Bruce?” 

His smirk disappeared. “Well, I didn’t tell him. But he’s a nosey son of a bitch. And even if he didn’t figure it out for himself, one of my brothers probably ran their mouth.”

Y/N didn’t think Jason and Bruce had a conversation out of uniform since he became the Red Hood. Probably hadn’t even addressed each other by their actual names in years. 

Y/N fully turned on her side to face her boyfriend and scooted closer. “What do you want to do?” She asked carefully. 

Jason sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then he too turned on his side and stole a look at her. She looked so tired, but still beautiful. He knew he put her through too much. He didn’t deserve her. And she deserved a better man than he could ever be. He had guilt on his conscience, blood on his hands. He was the poster child for the harshness that was Gotham. She was a normal woman who would’ve never gotten mixed up in this world if it weren’t for him. 

But Y/N insisted that she wanted to be here. Told him so by just staying each and every day, and never questioning her decision. Even left New York City to slum it in Gotham with him. 

Jason brushed some hair away from her face. 

“You’d come with me?”

Her face scrunched from him even feeling the need to ask. “Of course.” Then she gave him a sad look, “I’ve been wanting to meet your family for awhile.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked. 

Her eyes darkened. “You know why, J.” 

He stayed silent. 

“Listen, I know things haven’t been…good with your family. But I also know that they raised you. Whether you want to admit it or not, a lot of the man you are today is because of them. And I happen to love that man. So, yeah, I’ve wanted to meet them.” 

Jason had a look full of love that he was trying to contain. “Come here,” he demanded with a grin. 

Y/N giggled and moved into his arms. 

Jason immediately pivoted her body so she was hovering over him. Without any hesitation, he pulled her down for a kiss. 

“It’s gonna be filled with rich snobs and ass kissers. Don’t go hoping for a fun time,” he warned her as he narrowed his gaze playfully. 

“Then you’re really gonna need me there. Who else is gonna make fun of them with you?” She teased. 

Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Will this be a fancy affair?”

“Unfortunately.”

Her gaze darkened. “So, I’m gonna see you in a suit, huh?”

Jason pinched her sides. 

Y/N yelped before laughing, “Do you even own a suit? I’ve never seen it in your closet.”

Suddenly he flipped her body so he was now the one hovering over her. Y/N couldn’t ignore Jason’s massive size when she was caged below him like that.  “You’re on thin ice, kid.” 

“Oooh. I’m so scared,” she mocked. 

Jason almost looked offended.

But he sighed, getting back to the previous subject. “If I have to wear a suit, that means you have to wear a dress.”

“Or I could wear a suit, too.” She countered and raised a brow at him. 

He smirked at her challenge. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one either.” 

That seemed to please her. 

“I promise I’ll look real pretty. Ya know, really play the part of the arm candy for the famous Jason Todd.” 

Jason scoffed. “You’re always beautiful.” Then his gaze darkened. “And the arm candy was always Bruce and Dick’s thing. Not mine.”

“OK. So what should I be?” 

“My accomplice,” Jason confirmed. 

——————————————————

Y/N fidgeted in the back seat of the car as the black car drove to the outskirts of Gotham and to the Wayne Estate. 

Jason had sent her a text from his patrol comms about something coming up. Vague, as always. He did it to keep her in the dark as much as possible. 

Apparently he’d tried to tell Alfred they couldn’t make it. But the old man wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. He told Jason he’d send a car for Y/N and that he better show up too. 

Y/N had worn her fanciest dress, curled her hair, and done her makeup to perfection. She knew she could dress the part, but it was the acting bit that had her stressed out. 

Despite Jason’s relationship with his family, she still dreaded the thought that they wouldn’t like her and that they wouldn’t approve. Yeah, they were secretly vigilantes, but they were also the richest people in Gotham. 

Y/N swallowed as the car parked right outside the front entrance of Wayne Manor. There seemed to already be hundreds of people there. Everyone looked rich and fancier than Y/N could ever even pretend to be. 

‘You’re here for Jason. You’re here for Jason.’ She repeated in her mind as the driver opened the door for her and offered his hand.

Y/N told herself to become a character as she held her head high and made her way into the mansion. 

“Mansion” didn’t even seem to cover it. Y/N felt like she was in a Jane Austen novel or Downton Abbey. 

Guests eyed her as soon as she made her way inside. She was much younger than the general demographic of the party. It seemed that old money also meant literally old. 

She did a once over to see if she could find Jason. But he was nowhere to be found. Y/N decided she needed a drink to face a gala full of unwelcoming strangers alone. 

She ignored the curious and judgmental gazes as she made her way to one of the many bars set up through the home. 

‘Maybe red was too much,’ her imposter syndrome was telling her. Clearly it was making her stick out. But she knew Jason loved seeing her in red. 

Y/N quickly ordered a strong drink from the bartender, who was kind enough to sense that this young woman needed liquid courage and she needed it fast. 

“Are you sure you meant to use that bottle?” A male voice came up beside her, speaking to the bartender on her behalf. 

Y/N turned to see a very boyishly handsome man with blue eyes and brown hair so dark that it was almost black. 

He gave that bartender a look and Y/N watched as he nervously grabbed the much more expensive brand – the one Y/N would never in her life buy for herself. 

“Thank you,” Y/N said as politely as possible when the bartender slid the drink towards her. 

Then she turned her attention to the young man. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

He gave her a crooked smirk. “You deserve the very best.”

Y/N might not have ever met Jason’s brothers. But they were famous enough to make frequent appearances in the media. Everyone in Gotham knew what the Wayne kids looked like. Especially Dick Grayson, who seemed to thrive in the spotlight in a similar manner to his father. 

“Oh? And how do you know what I deserve? You don’t know me at all,” Y/N challenged with a tilt of her head. 

Her sass seemed to excite him. 

“Well, I was hoping, since I saved you from the cheap stuff, that you’d give me a chance to.” 

Y/N shook her head with an almost baffled smile. This faux charm and air of confidence was so unlike Jason’s. While Jason was quietly confident and sure of himself. It came almost from a place of nihilism. But Dick…Dick had an edge of haughtiness and self importance. 

“Your reputation precedes you, Dick Grayson,” Y/N cooed, with mischievous glint in her gaze, before taking a sip of her drink. He was right: this was the good stuff. 

Dick’s amusement seemed to falter now that she confessed to knowing exactly who he was. “And what reputation is that exactly?”

“Cocky, charming…flirtatious.”

Dick didn’t seem to mind these adjectives at all. In fact, he seemed rather proud of himself. He stepped a little closer to her. “It feels a little unfair that you seem to know me, but I haven’t even gotten your name.” 

Y/N tried to suppress her smile. She was really starting to enjoy this little game. “You’ll realize soon enough.” 

“Well, until then…” He stepped even closer and somehow managed to put his hand on her back without it feeling creepy. “Would you like to dance?” 

“Move that hand any lower, Dick, and I’ll fuckin’ break it,” Jason said from behind Y/N. 

Dick barely moved away from Y/N, but looked at his brother with confusion. 

Y/N turned and maneuvered her body away from Dick’s grasp. 

Then she smiled at Jason as she took in the sight of her boyfriend wearing a suit. Like, a real suit, not one made for a vigilante. He managed to tame his hair without using too much product. And his face had its signature scruff but cleaned up a bit. 

“How long has this one been annoying you?” Jason asked her. 

“Not long,” she replied before giving him a sweet kiss. 

Y/N turned to face Dick again, but remained close to Jason’s side. On instinct alone, Jason placed his hand on her back and pulled her even closer. It wasn’t possessive, but a habit he formed to comfort himself.

Dick blinked as his mind clearly figured out the change in situation. 

“You’re Y/N?” He asked her. 

She smirked. “Told you that you’d realize it soon enough.” 

“Dick, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is, Dick Grayson.”

Y/N didn’t miss how Jason didn’t refer to Dick as his brother. 

To his credit, Dick recovered rather quickly and politely offered his hand. Y/N didn’t hesitate to shake it. After all, she still wanted to make a good impression on his family. And the flirting was harmless. 

“I apologize for…” Dick’s words died out. 

“Hitting on me?” Y/N offered with a laugh. “I would say I’m flattered, but I’m sure I’m one of many women you will be making moves on tonight.” 

“Do it again, and I’ll swap out the rubber bullets in my guns, Dick.” Jason half warned and half joked. 

Dick seemed unfazed by the threat. “Why don’t you say it a little louder so more people can hear?”

Jason ignored his brother’s warning. 

He turned his gaze down to Y/N. “Let’s go introduce you to Alfred.”

Jason held her hand as he made his way through the crowd. It wasn’t hard to do. Y/N assumed it had to do with him technically being a Wayne or perhaps it was his large and imposing frame that told people to get the hell out of his way. 

Then Y/N was standing in front of an elderly man who had perfect posture and mischievous edge to his welcoming smile. 

“Master Jason, I see that you have finally brought Ms. Y/L/N for me to meet,” Alfred said with a smile. 

Out of all his siblings and father, Alfred seemed to be the only family member that Jason didn’t hold any sort of grudge against. Though Y/N wasn’t really sure what anyone would have against him. From everything she heard, he sounded absolutely lovely. 

He held out his hand, which Y/N instantly went to shake. But instead, Alfred brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. There was something about this family that made everything they do seem charming rather than creepy and uncomfortable.

Y/N laughed at the gesture. “It’s so nice to meet you, Alfred. I’ve heard so much about you.” 

He patted her hand before letting it go gently. “I wish I could say the same for you, dear. But it would appear Master Jason prefers to keep you entirely to himself.” 

She just gave him a polite – yet controlled – smile. Another side effect of Jason being overprotective of her. 

“Thank you for sending the car for me. You didn’t have to do that,” she told him. 

“Oh, nonsense. I would not allow this one to use any excuse for missing tonight.”

Y/N asked him about his foundation with genuine interest. Alfred answered all of her questions with enthusiasm. She wondered how often Alfred got to talk about normal things with the Wayne family. She could only imagine the manor was entirely consumed with matters of vigilantism. 

Alfred also asked Y/N far more questions about herself than she was prepared for. It made her realize that Jason really did keep her quite the secret. Y/N knew she shouldn’t be offended by it, but it made her sad that Jason’s family had clearly shown such an interest in her. Had she known, she may have put more pressure on Jason to introduce her. 

There was a lull in conversation when Alfred’s gaze turned to Jason. 

“Have you spoken with him yet?” He asked evenly. 

They all know who ‘him’ was. 

“I’m here for you, Alfred.” Jason quickly answered. “And we’ve kept you selfishly to ourselves for far too long. I’m sure everyone here wants to talk with you.”

Nice save.

Alfred dipped his head and lowered his voice, “Oh, you are two of the few people here whom I actually wish to converse with…” He finished with a wink before leaving them. 

“And here I thought you got all your charm from Bruce Wayne,” Y/N teased her boyfriend. 

But when she looked up at Jason, he had a dazed looked in his eyes. 

“Hey,” she squeezed his hand in comfort. “You don’t need to talk to him if you don’t want to. In fact, we can go now if you want.”

Jason snapped out of it then. “And leave without destroying this open bar? Absolutely not.” Then he seemed to take her in for the first time that night. “Plus, you deserve to be shown off.”

He leaned down to her ear. “I was so distracted with saving you from Dick that I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight.” 

No matter how many times he said things like that to her or made her feel this way, she still managed to blush at such compliments. 

And for good measure, Jason sealed the praise with a kiss, lightly gripping her chin to make sure she didn’t escape too soon for his liking. 

He barely pulled away from her lips when he smiled and muttered, “Come on. Let’s go steal ourselves a bottle of Dom Pérignon.” 

“Jason,” she scolded in a whisper, “Those cost like $2,000!”

“Exactly.” 

The next hour or so was filled with Jason and Y/N drinking champagne while standing in a corner that protected them from being interrupted. And Y/N did exactly as she promised: joking with Jason about all the stuck up rich people that just came to kiss ass and social climb. 

They were laughing about an old man that was desperately trying to hit on a young woman half his age when someone politely cleared their throat beside them.

But Jason smiled at the interruption. 

A young man, who couldn’t be older than his early 20s, was giving Y/N a delighted smile. However, the first thing she noticed were the shadows under his eyes and how tired he looked. But that didn’t stop his excitement from showing. 

“Y/N, this is my younger brother, Tim Drake. Tim, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

With a dorky enthusiasm, he shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. We’ve all been annoying Jason about bringing you around for quite some time.”

She smiled, “So I’ve heard…” Then she gave Jason a subtle accusatory look.

Tim’s face turned serious, as if he just remembered why he came over in the first place. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Jason would you mind…umm…looking at something for me real quick?”

Jason’s back straightened. 

Tim was trying to be polite to the two’s relationship by keeping out any and all details pertaining to their night life. 

But it was clear to Y/N that was what Tim was referring to. 

Jason looked down at her. 

“You don’t have to babysit me,” she teased him. “Go. I can entertain myself.”

He kissed her cheek and whispered, “If I’m not back in 30 minutes, please come rescue me.” 

She chuckled. “I would, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to find you...” 

“I’ll bring him back in no time, Y/N. Promise.” Tim told her with a beaming smile. 

Y/N watched them go and Jason gave her one last reluctant look over his shoulder before he disappeared around a corner. 

Y/N sighed and poured another glass of champagne and told herself it was time to mingle. But when she looked up, there wasn’t a single person that looked like they had any interest in making new friends. 

‘Some party this is,’ she thought to herself before abandoning her post and deciding to take herself on a tour of Wayne Manor. 

Y/N decided she wanted to escape the curious and judgmental gazes of the party, and found herself in a darker hallway. Candles were lit everywhere, giving it a gothic semblance. 

Y/N’s heartbeat quickened when she realized she’d discovered a hallway filled with artwork. Millions upon millions of dollars worth of artwork, to be precise. 

She was glad no one else seemed to have wandered this far, for she could take her time to look at all of it. 

“I think you might be the only guest of the manor who has ever taken the time to look at the artwork.”

Y/N jumped at the voice and turned to see the infamous Bruce Wayne watching her with what seemed to be amusement. 

He was nearly as tall as Jason – nowhere near as stout, though. But that didn’t seem to matter because he had an intimidating presence that had Y/N realizing it made perfect sense that this man was also Batman.  

She had no idea how long she’d been staring at the paintings. It was easy for her to get lost in art. It tended to consume her.

“Well, not everyone has a Caravaggio casually hanging in their home.”

Bruce chuckled at that. 

“Sorry,” she quickly told him. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I feel like I’m at the Louvre.”

“Please,” he declined such an apology. “No one in that party could tell the difference between an oil and acrylic painting. It’s refreshing to meet someone who can appreciate art.” He paused. “Have you been?”

“Have I been where?”

“To the Louvre.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “Umm...no, sadly. It’s been my dream to go to Paris in general. I don’t speak French, though. So I don’t know how that would work out.”

Bruce Wayne seemed to be listening closely and had genuine interest in what she was saying. Which felt strange to her for some reason. 

Suddenly, Y/N felt like she shouldn’t be talking to him. Jason made it clear he had no intention of making peace tonight. So Y/N figured she was meant to keep her distance as well. 

“I’m…” she began. 

“Y/F/N Y/L/N,” Bruce finished for her. 

She raised a brow, unimpressed. 

Of course Batman would know every single person coming into his home. He probably caught her lingering in this hallway from multiple hidden security cameras. 

He reached out his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering between his fixed stare and his offered hand. 

But it ended with her shaking it, nonetheless. 

“Thank you for bringing Jason tonight. I have a feeling he would’ve never shown had it not been for you.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched in an attempt to stop herself from lashing out at Bruce. 

Yes, Jason was protective of her. But Y/N was also protective of Jason. 

It wasn’t the Wayne family that talked Jason out of the darkness. They weren’t the one who comforted him after his nightmares. They weren’t the one who kissed and touched the autopsy scars that he was ashamed of. They weren’t the one who made him realize he wasn’t a failure or a monster, that he was worth something.  

That was Y/N. 

And she wasn’t going to let any of them cause him to relapse.

“Did he tell you not to talk to me?” Bruce questioned.

He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. 

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Jason doesn’t tell me what to do.” 

Bruce smirked at how she didn’t back down and met his confrontation with confidence. “You’re not too fond of me, are you?”

Y/N shifted her weight a bit, but kept quiet, not wanting to confirm or deny his suspicions. 

“I’m not sure what Jason told–”

“He told me everything,” Y/N cut him off sharply. 

Bruce tilted his head. “Surely not everything.” Proving that he knew Jason completely kept Y/N away from his vigilante and crime life. 

Then Y/N lost her composure and took a step toward Bruce. “You call him your greatest failure,” she accused him. 

“Because I let him down.” 

“But it doesn’t matter how you meant it. How do you think that makes him feel?”

Bruce’s body tensed and his jaw tightened. 

Suddenly a dog came running out of nowhere and nearly tackled Y/N. She managed to stay on her feet, but her glass of champagne was knocked from her grasp and shattered on the floor. 

“Titus!” Bruce growled at the dog. 

A second later, a boy came running. 

“Damian, what did I tell you about keeping pets away from parties,” Bruce scolded.

“I apologize,” Damian told Y/N in a voice that should’ve belonged to an adult, rather than a pre-teen boy. But he seemed rather annoyed that he had to apologize to a stranger. 

Y/N chuckled at the black Great Dane. She barely had to bend down to pet the giant dog. “It’s fine. Dogs are always my favorite people I meet at parties.”

Damian looked between his father and Y/N, immediately getting the sense that she was not the average party guest. 

“Who’s she?” He asked bluntly. 

“Damian, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N.” Bruce gestured with an upturned palm. 

“Todd’s companion?” Damian stated, clearly sounding unimpressed. 

Jesus. They really did all know about her.

“Damian…” was all Bruce said to warn his son. 

“I don’t know what you see in him.”

“That’s enough, Damian.” Bruce snapped. 

That finally got the boy to shut his mouth. 

Y/N was about to tell both of them that it was fine. She had expected such greetings from Jason’s youngest brother. 

But her attention was diverted when she noticed Jason standing at the edge of the hallway. 

Bruce followed her gaze. 

There was a stare down between the two men that felt like an hour to Y/N. 

“Jason,” Bruce greeted steadily. 

Jason looked at his family coldly. “Bruce,” he replied with even less emotion. Then he looked down at his youngest brother, “Demon Spawn.”

“Todd,” Damian spat back. 

Jason’s gaze softened when it landed on Y/N. Ignoring the tension, he reached out a hand in her direction. “We should say our goodbyes to Alfred.” 

Y/N nodded and walked to her boyfriend, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. 

He quickly guided them back to the party without a second glance to Bruce and Damian. 

As soon as they were in a mass of people again, Y/N turned to Jason to ask him if he was OK. A part of her felt guilty, like she’d been caught doing something bad by being alone with Bruce Wayne. 

But Jason seemed to sense her concern and spoke before she could. “I’m stealing another bottle of champagne before we go,” and quickly went to the bar. 

“He lasted longer than I expected,” Dick’s voice came up beside her. 

Y/N barely glanced at him. “I’m proud of him,” was all she replied, as they both watched him. 

“I apologize for my behavior earlier. I’m afraid I didn’t give you the best first impression.”

Y/N fully turned to face him and laughed lightly. “I promise I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m sure you think we’re all just being polite…but all of us really were looking forward to meeting you, Y/N.” 

“Even Damian?” She teased. 

Dick laughed. “Well, rumor is that Titus took an immediate liking to you. And Damian trusts his pets’ judgement of character more than any of ours.”

News really did travel fast in this family. 

Y/N smiled at that. “I’ve wanted to meet all of you for so long. I’m glad we finally made it happen.” She went back to their original topic. 

Dick winced. “I’d rather not think about what Jason’s said about us…”

“I think you might be pleasantly surprised,” she countered. 

“Ready to go?” Jason interrupted, ignoring Dick. 

For good measure, he dipped down to kiss Y/N’s bare shoulder. 

“Yeah, let’s go say bye to Alfred.” 

But she turned back to Dick. And to everyone’s surprise, she wrapped him into a hug. Dick was surprised, but welcomed the gesture. 

“Please keep an eye on him out there,” she whispered to him quietly enough so Jason didn’t have a chance of overhearing.

“Of course,” he told her. 

————————

Bruce pretended to be listening to a conversation with old family friends as he watched Y/N and Jason hug Alfred goodbye. 

He noticed Y/N say something to Alfred that made the butler’s face go serious. Then she handed him a business card. 

Bruce wanted to talk with Jason. He’d been both dreading and looking forward to tonight, hoping a miracle would occur and he could finally mend things with his son. 

But the way Jason had looked at him, Bruce knew everything he was feeling and it was clear Jason wasn’t going to let things go between them any time soon. 

Bruce politely excused himself and went to Alfred’s side. 

“What was that last bit about?” Bruce asked, indirectly telling Alfred that he’d been observing their conversation. 

Now the two men both watched Jason and Y/N from a window that gave a view of the front drive. 

Y/N threw her head back and laughed loudly at something Jason had whispered in her ear. 

“She asked if I could teach her first aid.”

They both know it went much deeper than first aid. Y/N was asking Alfred to show her how to stitch wounds, how to extract bullets, when to know Jason was too hurt to be fixed up by his inexperienced girlfriend. 

“She’s good for him,” Bruce thought aloud. 

“That she is, Master Bruce.” 

“I forgot what his laugh sounded like.” Bruce paused for a moment before adding, “I’ve never seen him smile like this. Not even before…” His words died. They both knew what ‘before’ was referring to. 

Suddenly Y/N pointed to Jason as she walked backwards, clearly giving him a warning of some sort. 

But Jason ignored her as he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his shoulder. One of his hands was wrapped tightly around her thighs, securing her body to his chest, while the other hand held a bottle of champagne. 

They could hear Y/N’s laughter, even from inside the mansion. 

Alfred observed how Bruce watched his second son. “You must give him more time, Master Bruce.” 

However, Bruce said nothing in return. 

--------------------

Part 2

Please, please, please let me know what you think. I will take constructive criticism on my characterization of Jason Todd, as long as it’s done nicely😅 

[Also, I finally stopped being lazy and made my own header. 😂]

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergarden Ever After: Prologue

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Should you feel even just slightly lonely after this story is over, by all means, go see the anime’s Violet. Even if the storyline is different, your Auto-Memories Doll will be there. —Akatsuki Kana

Tears spilled down the eyes of a beast. Shedding large teardrops, it wept.

Why was he saying such things now, at this moment? The beast was incapable of understanding. It could not fathom the meaning of those words or his reasons to be uttering them.

A slow-acting poison. The beast had been given it little by little every day, and the effects of said poison circulating its whole body were currently showing. The beast’s crying was proof of that. Never had it known such painful tears.

He whispered repeatedly. It was an attempt to tell the beast words that it had not heard before. This conveyed that they were extremely important, but the beast could not accept them. It did not want to comprehend them now. They were most certainly against the very meaning of the beast’s existence. Should it accept them, the beast would no longer exist for the sake of emerald eyes.

——I hate not being able to protect you. My only wish is to keep you safe. It’s all I can reciprocate. Don’t be saying these things now; I want you to give me orders.

And so, the beast howled while wailing. It howled at its one and only Lord. The most hardly replaceable thing in the world for the beast.

   Roses and the Auto-Memories Doll: Prologue

   Blue eyes opened.

The beautiful, golden-manned beast had just awoken. Showered in morning light, it sat up without hesitation. Moving its small body, it smoothly came down from the top of a tree and set its legs on the ground. Swallowing the morning dew that had accumulated on its teeth, it picked fruits from the tree to eat. It ate one and, after staring fixatedly at the other for a second, the beast held onto it and started walking.

It was morning. A comfortable morning.

In the environment where the beast lived, there was neither right nor wrong. It might eventually die if it stayed there. It might live on forever as long as it was there.

The beast, which could easily sense and deal with invaders, felt neither desperation at the fact that morning had come to it, nor hope toward the day called today. It did not know such things. As it had never been taught about them, it was not capable of embracing them.

In certain aspects, the beast was overly superior, and in others, it fell so far behind that it was unbearable to look at. It had tremendously menacing fangs and was beautiful to an uncanny extent. It was that kind of beast. It was still that kind of beast.

Silence.

The beast strained its ears. It could hear the sounds of ocean waves from the coast. And also the voice of a man who appeared to be cursing. It then headed toward the sea.

The sky still bore colors that were a mixture of daybreak and nightly shades. The temperatures were warm and perfectly suitable for putting oneself in motion. Spotting the back of the man, who was sitting on the beach, the beast approached him slow and quietly.

Had he been trying to catch fish? Victim to his irritation, a broken, long tree branch was being flung away. A single small fish lay on a leaf as proof of his efforts.

Something heartbreaking must have happened for the man to be in such a situation. He did not seem to have the strength for cooking or eating the fish. With the man in front of it, the beast offered him the fruit.

He was the man who the beast had cognized as its “master” the other day.

Adults were necessary for the beast. Adults who could designate it instructions of some sort. The beast was able to live on its own, yet it needed adults to give it directions. It would be a problem if he died.

After leaving the fruit there, the beast distanced itself a little and sat on the sand. It was waiting for orders. While it did so, something hit its head.

“You monster.”

It was a fruit. He had apparently thrown away the fruit that the beast had gone through the trouble of giving to him. Even though he was hungry.

The man glanced its way. His green irises and raven hair glistened amidst the break of dawn. He was a beautiful man.

“I want to kill you,” the man whispered with a tone that would make one think this was his true intention.

It was a cruel statement, but the beast displayed no reaction. The white noise of the ocean waves drifted between the two of them. As the beast could not talk, the place was quiet when the man did not speak.

An island of one man and one beast. There used to be a mountain of corpses as well, but they had long been buried.

“But if I were asked whether you’re wrong or not, I don’t know,” the man, who would later be identified as Dietfried Bougainvillea, simply talked to it with an exhausted face. “If I were in your shoes and felt danger from those men... from that man who came towards you all of a sudden, then I would’ve probably done that.”

The beast merely turned its ears to the voice of the man. Not that it could understand anything. It was a wild beast and the man was a person. They were unable to establish communication. However, whenever it was spoken to by the person, the beast would look back at him with its unclouded eyes.

“That and whether or not I can forgive you are two different things. I can’t. In the end, I do want to kill you.”

Having met in the worst possible way, they had not initiated anything yet, but an encounter was a beginning in itself.

“Still, I have some room for pity too... Just what are you? Were you abandoned? Why’re you by yourself in a place like this...?”

As an announcement for a chemical reaction of sorts that was about to occur.

“No, you killed my men. I actually don’t have room for pity... Anyway, just stay quiet and listen.”

This was the start of a grandiose fate.

“I’m thinking with myself about what to do with you. I can’t stand you. I despise you.”

That meeting had served as its cornerstone.

“For now, I need you so that I can survive. You know this territory and can ensure food supplies as my tool to prepare for an escape... to go from this remote island back to Leidenschaftlich. And I really do feel a burning anger for what happened before, so want to punish you. But I have a strong sense of duty, so if we manage to leave this place without problems and if I get a chance to see my little brother’s face at least one more time, he might take interest in you if you do something. I won’t. I myself won’t. I’m complicated. A complicated man. You can’t handle me and I can’t handle you either. If I continue using you, I’ll get fed-up for sure and would indeed feel like killing you, but actually doing that would probably be impossible. You’re tough. I’d lose. No matter how I look at it, I can’t kill you. I don’t know why, but you need me, right? You’re trying to keep me alive and you kill things for my sake. Seems like you can be useful. After all, we’re in the middle of a war. It’d be fitting of someone like you to be used, used, used, used, used, used and used down to every last bit, till you become a worn-out mop cloth. That’s right, it definitely fits you...”

The man continuously spit out outrageous statements for a long while. The beast picked up the fruit that had been thrown away again and left it in front of him.

“Try to save me, monster.” The man bit the fruit, and with an annoyed face, he threw it at the beast.

This time, the beast dodged it. The fruit formed an arched trajectory line, overlapping with the sunrise lights. It was radiant enough for the beast to feel like its retinas would char, and so it closed its eyes as if bringing down a curtain.

   Blue eyes opened.

The beast was inside a large sack. It did not know for how much time it had been there. Long had passed since the last time it had been taken to the toilet and told to finish its business. Its throat was dry and it was tired from recurrent battles. While in the bag, it had repeatedly closed and opened its eyelids, falling into a doze, and now it had opened them again.

It could discern the voice of its master. As well as the stench of some burned food that he and the people who followed him were daring to put into their mouths. The beast did not like the odor. It dulled its sense of smell.

When would the master use it? There was no meaning to the beast aside from being put to use. The beast wanted to be used. It had no other way to prove itself.

There were surely people who found it strange. Why was this doll-like beast, who did not show any emotion, so keenly obsessed with being a tool? That was very simple. So simple it was ridiculous, so commendable it was ludicrous.

The beast wanted to be with humans.

It could live by itself. The beast had enough strength for that. It was fine even without anyone around. Yet, it wanted to be with people. It hated being on its own. That much was obvious. Nobody wanted to be in solitude. In true, complete loneliness. That was the desire of people whose mental state had grown tired of interacting with people, but no one who was actually alone wished for it. The beast wanted to be with someone, but could think of a means to do so other than offering itself for use. Which was why the beast was doing so.

It had lost the memory of its parents’ faces, its recollections from before a certain time, everything – yet it knew all but the surge born from servitude and violence. This was the only thing engraved into the modus operandi of the beast’s short life history. It could also be said that it “wound up” being engraved there. If it had been taught any other method, it would likely not have turned out the way it was.

The beast did not yet know what it was about to meet.

“I haven’t named it. We’d been calling it ‘you’.”

As the sack was opened, the outside lights, which were coming in contact with the beast for the first time in a while, shone on its eyes. The beast closed its eyelids once.

And then, it wished to be given an order.

   Blue eyes opened.

It was completely dark. Their field of vision was pitch-black, the air cold. However, the body of the beast was swelteringly hot. A slushy heat enclosed its whole body, giving it the sensation of turning into a huge lump of lead.

“Violet.”

Suddenly, light shone amidst the darkness.

That was because the person who had spoken to it had lit a lamp, but also because said person seemed to be shining, as he was the beast’s one and only light. His large hand touched the beast’s forehead, and then caressed it as if to unknot its sweat-drenched hair. A sizzling sound could be heard oozing from the beast’s chest.

“Major...”

The beast had been granted a name, known protection and learned how to speak.

“The fever... hasn’t gone down, huh. Can you drink water?”

Which gave rise to an attachment.

“My apologies.”

The beast had absorbed many new things from its new lord, and they built the beast’s values.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You gave too much in the last battle... It was my mistake.”

Without its lord, even breathing would be difficult for the beast now.

“I am a tool, after all.”

It wanted to live for him.

“I believe you should use, use, use and use every last bit of me, until I break.”

And to die for him.

“Therefore, repairing me is unnecessary.”

Such tempestuous dependence was gnawing at its body.

“You’re human. We need rest if we’re down with a fever, and some also need to be nursed. That’s always been the way I’ve supervised you, ever since we’ve met. So of course I have to look after you.”

Everything was the lord’s fault. He had recognized this golden-manned, blue-eyed beast as a “girl” first of all.

“Do you not have any requests? Something I can do in this state.”

The object of his safeguarding, the wild beast he had to oversee, his weapon. While keeping these categories separated, the lord made use of the beast.

“For you to get well, Violet.”

And out of all things, he grew to love it.

   Blue eyes opened.

Tears overflowed from the eyes of the beast. Its visibility was distorted. It closed and opened its eyelids, attempting to expel the salty sea that it was birthing, to no avail.

“Violet, stop.”

The beast wept. Shedding large teardrops, it wailed. Even though it had never cried before, it was doing so.

“...e you.”

Its lord had been severely injured. It had failed to protect him. It had executed its orders, but because of that, it had been unable to protect him.

For the beast, the lord was more important than this mission.

“...ove you.”

As it cherished its lord, it had wanted to succeed in the mission. Since its life belonged to its lord, it had made the mission into a priority. But this rendered it meaningless.

“I love you! I don’t want to let you die! Violet! Please live!!”

There was no meaning in it. No meaning at all. There was no significance in the beast’s life either.

“I love you.”

Besides, why? Why was he saying that? Why was he saying such a thing, now, at this moment?

“I love you, Violet.”

The beast attempted to digest the words its lord had just whispered. It did not comprehend them.

“Violet...”

The beast did not understand. It could not fathom the meaning of those words or his reasons to be uttering them.

“Are you listening, Violet?”

——Are they not, most likely, something special? Those are most likely not words that I should be told. They are most likely not something that you should say to me. If you must say them, then why?

“I like you.”

——Why did you use me? Why won’t you let me save you?

“I love you.”

——Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

“I love you, Violet.”

It did not understand. It did not understand anything. Not its lord, this world or the words confessed to it.

And so, the beast howled while wailing. It howled at its one and only Lord. The most hardly replaceable thing in the world for the beast.

“What is ‘love’?”

Ironically enough, it was then that the beast accepted love for the first time and became a person.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 12: The Unexpected Second Life of Mary Alice Brandon

... And we’re done. Last day. Is anyone as shocked as I am that I made a daily post without missing any? Twelve days absolutely flew by. I hope you all found something to read that you enjoyed, and I am genuinely sorry that I didn’t get enough time to yell ‘Surprise! New STL chapter!’ 

So, today I bring you something from my very earliest Twilight fic writing efforts. Tomorrow, there shall be a nice linked round-up of all the fics I posted because I am super sleepy. 

(Okay, so this is actually samples from each of the 4 fics in the series - Magnolia, Hush Hush, Beautiful & Strange, and Wonderland. This was one of my first Twilight fics, and my attempt to writing Alice and Jasper in the place of Bella and Edward. I didn’t just want to name swap, I wanted to tell their version of the story - I know what happens in canon, let’s try something new.

So, Magnolia corresponds to Twilight in that Alice moves to Forks when her mother remarries, meets the Cullens, and gets involved with Jasper. Hush Hush is a mix of the end of Twilight and New Moon; The Beautiful and the Strange and Wonderland don’t really fit into Eclipse or Breaking Dawn at all; because Alice is a lot different to Bella, and because I haven’t written as much of either of them - just a few important scenes that I wanted to include.

This was started, like, 5 years ago, so it is a little wonky. I still love them, mostly because I managed to capture an Alice voice I liked. Like Hybrid and Memento Mori, Magnolia!Alice has a very distinctive voice. This is old enough that I’m quite nervous posting it, but I want to.

Also, you technically get four fics at once, because it’s Christmas Eve Eve and I feel like it.)

Magnolia

The vision was soupy. Moving through the forest leaves brushing across my face. It was dark, I could barely see a foot in front of me.

Flashes of rust-coloured snow.

And Jasper, crouched and looking like a stranger – feral and single-minded, his golden eyes blackened, the circles underneath his eyes angry, making him look inhuman.

And then he lunged, with impossible speed and agility. I wanted to scream.

The buck he was aiming for crumbled to the side with a great bellow, Jasper’s teeth sinking into its throat, his hands crushing its massive throat. Blood spilled past his throat, rivers of it that seemed to pulse as it spilt. The animal moaned one last time as it sunk into its death.

He finally rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The raw, gaping wound on the buck’s throat, its dull eyes. Jasper’s satisfied look, the blood smeared across his jaw.

I opened my eyes and screamed.

--

I never spoke of what I really saw the night of the crash. I woke up to a patchy vision with a southern accent calling out to me, “Hold on, darlin’.” I woke up, and looked to my left, to see the man that was my father, had been my father, was slumped in the seat beside me. He was staring blankly at me, his eyes wide.

His jugular had been completely severed by a piece of glass, cutting half-way through his neck. There was nothing but sinew, blood and death. His hand was thrown across the console as if he had been reaching for me in that moment.

I sat in the middle of that clearing for hours, feeling the cold seep into my clothes, just thinking about the blood. The blood of the animals from my vision, the blood of Michael Brandon, seeping into the seats of his car, into his teenage daughter’s skirt.

I could even taste it.

I didn’t really notice time passing, the air getting colder.

It wasn’t until an enormous russet wolf stepped into the clearing that I realised how late it was, how long I had been in the forest.

He was as large as my shoulder, all rippling muscle and golden eyes, staring at me and approaching slowly.

“Oh god,” I stammered, leaping to my feet and clutching my satchel.

-- Jasper appeared in the glade suddenly, and for a second, I saw my vision overlay reality, and I just wanted to scream.

“Thanks Seth,” Jasper nodded at the wolf as he approached me. “Alice, your mother called Esme. You went missing and everyone is worried.”

I dropped back to the boulder where I had taken up my vigil. It was too much. I just needed... I didn’t even know what I needed. I looked down, at my muddy sneakers, at the beetle making its way up the boulder.

“Alice, are you okay?” Jasper said urgently, moving towards me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked suddenly, meeting his dark-golden eyes.

“Tell you what?” Jasper looked confused.

“What you are,” I said simply.          

Jasper physically recoiled at my words.

“The eyes, the never eating at lunch, why you never touch me…” I shook my head. “By themselves, those are just quirks. Understandable, from a foster kid. Together… I knew something was up, I should have listened to my visions.”

“We don’t feed on humans,” Jasper replied softly. “We only feed on wild animals. I would never hurt you, Alice.” A small smile ghosted across his face. “And you don’t smell good, anyway.” At my affronted look, he chuckled. “Your medications. They pollute the blood. I-I… I was grateful when I found out. That I could be around you without temptation. Well,” he amended, “without the temptation of your blood. You are very much a temptress in other ways, Alice.”

I let out a laugh-sob. “A vampire.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled in his Texan accent that always made my knees weak. He came closer,

By the time we headed back to the house, it was dark, and my cardigan wasn’t keeping out much of the cold. Jasper was keeping a very obvious distance between us, and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him to stay away from me, or hold my hand.

“You told her!” Rosalie was yelling before we were even in the house, moving so from where she was pacing in the sitting room to standing in front of me with a murderous expression in less than a second. I flinched, backing up against Jasper, as he gently pulled me against his side.

No one should be able to move that fast.

“She had a vision, Rosalie,” Jasper sounded irritated, but the expression on his face was utterly foreign, a threat and a warning in a dark glare. “It was inevitable.”

“Not if you had left her alone!” Rosalie picked up a china ornament of some sort and threw it. I flinched as it smashed on the wall behind me and pressed closer to Jasper. I heard a strange rumbling and my eyes nearly bugged out; Jasper was growling. At Rosalie.

“Rosalie, enough,” Esme said sharply from behind us, and bestowed a smile on me. “Alice, sweetheart, come and have something to drink whilst everyone gets all the yelling over with.”

I adored the Cullen’s kitchen – all grey and white and brass. Beautiful hand-painted tiles over the apparently unused stove that told a story about a boy and a girl on a farm throughout the four seasons.

Esme pushed the kitchen door closed as I heard the raised voices.

“Sit. You gave everyone a scare, disappearing like that,” she said as she went to the fridge.

“I just needed somewhere to think,” I said, as I watched Esme move around the kitchen. “Why do you keep food if you don’t eat it?”

Esme looked up from where she was slicing a tomato. “We have friends who do eat, and grocery shopping makes us appear more normal. We donate a lot of the canned and packaged foods to charities out of state, though.”

I nodded and looked towards the kitchen door as there was more sudden yelling.

“Rosalie’s bark is much worse than her bite,” Esme said; she’d worked quickly – she was already setting in front of me a glass of lemonade and a sandwich. “She loves her family fiercely, and she wants to protect them from danger. But in Rosalie’s view, everyone outside of the family is a danger.”

I smiled my thanks at Esme and took a bite of the sandwich. After a moment, I looked back up.

“Why’s she freaking out? From what I’ve seen, I don’t have much of a defence against any of you.”

Esme came over and sat opposite me. “Does that scare you?”

“Rosalie scares me. What I saw Jasper do to that deer scares me. But I’m used to having no way to protect myself,” I said, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“Oh, Alice,” Esme sounded so sympathetic. “Sweetheart…”

“Jasper’s told you about me, I guess?” I asked softly.

“A little. I think maybe Emmett might have been his sounding board – Carlisle and I have parts of the story, and despite what you might think, Emmett is exceptionally good at both keeping a secret and blocking out Edward,” Esme replied. “We know that you have extensive memory loss and were hospitalised for your visions. Jasper went to Carlisle for information on that, to see if he could help you.”

I flushed and took a long drink to avoid replying. The sound of something heavy shattering made me choke on the lemonade and splash it down my front.

“Another opportunity to redecorate,” Esme reassured me. “They should calm down soon.”

I nodded. Before I could say anything else, the kitchen door burst open, to reveal Rosalie and Jasper tumbling into the room; the other Cullens following at a more human pace.

Esme stood up warily, and I wondered briefly if Rosalie was going to try and hurt me. But I’d see that decision, wouldn’t I?

She was staring at me with such rage and hate that I wanted to leave. Instead, I finished my sandwich, trying to calm myself down – though, they could all probably hear my heart pounding.

“You know you have to die, right?” Rosalie hissed at me.

I looked up. “That’s pretty inevitable for most people,” I replied evenly.

“You know about us,” she spat. Jasper let out a warning growl, standing behind my chair. I could hear the wood creaking under his grip.

“Enough, Rosalie,” Carlisle said, looking frustrated. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Alice.”

I nodded, without making eye-contact. That’s what Mom said when she sent me to the hospital. What the doctors said when they told me about the ECT. It’s just another well-meaning lie.

Rosalie was pacing in the kitchen, Jasper was glaring at her, and the rest of them were just watching me stare at the dregs of my lemonade until the vision flashed across my mind and I scowled at Rosalie.

“You aren’t subtle, are you?” I said. “Of all the choices, you went with that one?”

Rosalie hissed at me, as everyone focused back on me.

“What did you see?” Carlisle asked.

“Rosalie planning on choking the life out of me. I’ve seen people who’ve been strangled, it’s a nasty way to go. Plus, we live in Forks and I’m on a whole pharmacy worth of drugs and I have known mental issues. There are dozens of ways you could dispose of me that wouldn’t implicate an outside party and wouldn’t be horrible from my end.”

“Rosalie,” Esme said, her tone reminding me of Matron. “You are not going to harm Alice in any way. Understand?”

“I didn’t see that – in your head,” Edward said suddenly, taking a seat at the table. “It was...”

“They aren’t linear. Kind of like… riddles, with clues that only make sense to me,” I said, twisting a strange of hair around my finger. “And… it’s not just what I see. I could smell Rosalie’s perfume, feel the rain on my face.”

“Fascinating,” Edward breathed.

I smiled and reached for my lemonade. “I don’t always understand them myself,” I said. “It’s weird.”

That was always the one thing that bugged me about the accident. Had I known? I knew that I had always had some kind of foresight, from Mom and Cynthia. Had I just not managed to change that future? Had I not been able to work out what the vision meant until it was too late?

Hush Hush

Of all the things I’ve achieved in my life, this had to be the most satisfying.

By a long shot.

I mean, I had no memories from before I was thirteen, and I was a thoroughly average high school student, so there wasn’t a ton of competition for that title.

If there were two things in this world that I loved beyond explanation, it was my boyfriend and really fast cars.

Problem: I didn’t own a car, and said boyfriend was rather old-fashioned and restrained.  

So my current situation was one of my greatest achievements: I had managed to sweet talk my Civil War-era boyfriend into the backseat of a shiny Maserati convertible.  

Of course, the car was still parked in the Cullen’s ridiculously huge garage – I wasn’t entirely sure whose car it was, and I didn’t need Jasper taking the time to think our planned activities through and come up with a dozen reasons why we couldn’t do them in the time it took to take the car and drive it somewhere we wouldn’t be caught.  

My stepsister, Ellie, had already proved that the Forks police had a no-tolerance policy for teenagers in the backseats of cars. My mom and Ellie’s dad had not been pleased when the cops delivered Ellie home.

I attributed some of the success to my outfit; I had picked it out with some kind of debauchery in mind. Honestly, I had only been hoping for a few scorching kisses in his study. I hadn’t expected this level of reaction. Apparently, the combination of a short skirt and thigh-high socks that left a slim band of bare skin had been a winner – my high-heeled mary janes had been chosen to give me a few extra inches of height. And I was in love with my new shirt – I had liked the bows on both shoulders; Jasper had evidently liked the low V-neck.

Either way, that had lead to our current situation – us pawing each other in the back seat of a very expensive car, me in his lap with my arms around his neck, him with one hand on my leg, stroking the skin left bare by my socks, and one cupping my cheek.

His gaze kept dipping to the small amount of cleavage I had managed to produce, thanks to a well-padded bra, which assured me that I would be basking in this particular success until I finally had to go home, or until one of the other Cullens’ caught us.

What happened next was completely my fault. No one else thinks so, mostly because they think I’m the adorably naïve human girl, who is ranked somewhere between ‘bunny’ and ‘kitten’ on the innocence scale. I had suitably shocked Emmett on several occasions with the filthiness of both my vocabulary and mind, but they still hadn’t caught on.

I had also had a long chat with Jasper about what was and wasn’t okay. He wasn’t comfortable touching me much, terrified he’d hurt me accidently or lose control. There had also been an awkward conversation about vampires and instincts that pretty much boiled down to the fact he really, really wanted to sleep with me, but I wouldn’t survive the experience.

I’d observed that he might have outgrown his teenage years before the wheel had been invented (I’d gotten a dirty look for that one), but I was fully entrenched in the teenage years, and despite what modern media continued to say, that hormones and sex-drives weren’t the sole property of boys, and I definitely wanted him to man-handle me. That most of my aspirations for the coming year involved his mouth and hands.

If he could have blushed, I’m sure he would have been luminous red. I know I was blushing, even as the words came out of my mouth.

I know Edward was probably wheezing with laughter somewhere in the house.

After a long and drawn-out negotiation, sex was off the table, at least until he was sure he could keep himself under control and not hurt or bite me accidentally. Anything else was up for debate as needed, though he retained the right to remove himself from the situation if it became too ‘tempting’.

Pretty sure that ‘massive drama queen’ is an added requirement of being a vampire.

The first two weeks, he would pull himself away from me after a few quick kisses, which was maddening at best.  Rosalie had finally pulled me aside and given me her version of a pep-talk: we were both insane, I was going to get killed, but give him time to work out his boundaries. Patience, young grasshopper.

I had stood in the hall looking confused for several seconds, since the only things Rosalie normally said to me could qualify as ‘terrifying threats’ on a good day.

Then, the next time I visited, she bought a copy of Cosmo and read aloud from several of its articles. Emmett had been intrigued, and enthusiastically debated the merits of all the, uh, suggestions; Bella had been curious, Edward had been horrified, Esme had been amused and a touch embarrassed and Jasper had been frozen with mortification.

I had been about ten levels more mortified than Esme at first, thinking this was Rosalie’s version of punishing me for, well, being me and human – the list of my indiscretions was endless as far as Rose was considered - before I decided to simply own it, and debated with her about the magazine’s suggestions, and the flexibility of the human body.

Carlisle came home to Emmett wheezing with laughter, Edward sitting stiffly at the piano, Rosalie smirking behind her magazine, with Bella trying subtly to read over her shoulder, Esme trying her hardest not to giggle, and Jasper dragging me out of the house, telling everyone Rosalie and I were terrible influences on everyone. But I got felt up before he took me home, so I considered it a victory.

What I’m trying to say is that we had boundaries, we knew the boundaries and we respected those boundaries. Clothes stayed on, hands stayed on neutral flesh only, and we generally stayed away from any beds, couches or places that could be repurposed as such.

So when I pulled away, breathing hard, and said, “Wait,” I knew I was playing with fire. I had straightened up, and swung one of my legs over his, straddling his lap. I had put one of his hands on my hip, and the other at my waist. The whole time, he looked at me with dark eyes, looking amused, and then down my top again.

According to Emmett, Jasper hadn’t seen a naked woman since the literal 1800s, let alone boobs. I was really doing my civic duty – and it wasn’t like I had much to boast about in that area.

Knowing that it was absolutely in our no-go zone, I took my top off, and pressed myself back against him. He was looking at me, startled and wide-eyed. “Alice…” his voice was rough, his hands resting very carefully on my skirt-clad hips.

I giggled, kissing the side of his mouth. “You kept sneaking peeks. Figured you had earned a look.” And then I kissed him, hard, to silence him.

He was very tentative, putting his hands back at my waist, and groaning a little when he touched my bare skin. I must admit, I sighed a little as he slid his hands up my torso, and pressed closer.  When his hand gently cupped my breast over my bra, I moaned into his mouth and rolled my hips against him, rather desperately.  I could feel that as much as I might be behaving badly, he wanted it as much as I did. I even remember thinking, ‘God, how can you be this controlled?’

It happened in a split second, one of his arms snaking around my waist, the growl in his chest, how black his eyes were when I knew he’d been hunting only a few days ago.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not and have never been afraid of Jasper, or any of the Cullens. Well, I have been afraid of Rosalie, but that’s mostly her glowing personality, and not the fact she’s a vampire.

I wasn’t afraid then. I just suddenly knew that this wasn’t going to end with me putting my shirt back on and giggling stupidly as he took me home.  That this was going to end with Jasper being deeply unhappy with himself.

He flipped me – in one moment, I was flat on my back, him on top of me, my knees on either side of his hips, his mouth on mine and both hands cupping my face. Then he moved one arm to wrap around my waist, and pain flooded my right side. I gasped, the pain turning my vision white for a second.

He was off me in a second, across the room, and I was still seeing stars – I knew he had picked up when my emotions turned from, uh, happy to ohgodfuckshitpain. It was a pain I was familiar with, even if my panicked, dazed mind was going, ‘broken spine. You earned that one, girlie.’ Apparently my conscience sounded like that one nurse from the hospital.

“Jas,” I hissed, trying to get my vision to clear. I blinked hard and he was gone. “Jasper.”

A second later, Jasper was back with Bella. A good choice. Bella wouldn’t judge or criticize us, she would just help.

Jasper looked panicked. I would have laughed at his expression, if I wasn’t lying in the back of what I assumed was Rosalie’s car, topless, with broken ribs. I was also trying to push back flashbacks from the car accident, which was making my vision swim.

“Alice, you need to tell me where it hurts,” Bella’s voice was soft, kind, as she hovered over me.

“Ribs. Right,” I managed. Bella nodded, and opened the door of the car.

“Can you sit up?” she asked.

“I can try,” I managed.

“Slowly, carefully and if it’s too much, you can stop, okay? We just need to get you out of the car,” Bella said and I was intensely grateful for her presence. Jasper hadn’t moved or said anything, just kept looking at me with the saddest eyes I had ever seen.

I took a deep breath, and attempted to pull myself into a sitting position, blackness creeping in the corners of my vision. I was shivering quite badly, and for a moment my vision swum and I felt myself sway. And then soft hands steadied me. Bella.

“It’s okay, you’re up. Halfway there,” she said. “Jasper, where’s her shirt?”

Jasper reached into the front seat, and silently handed it over.  Bella gave him an indecipherable look and attempted to get the shirt back on me. I couldn’t get it on. I was in too much pain, and couldn’t lift my arm up.

“That’s okay,” Bella soothed. “You can borrow a shirt. I’ll go and find you one – Jasper, sit with her. Carlisle should be home soon, and we can get her fixed up.”

Jasper crouched in front of me, looking heartbroken. I offered him a weak smile, which he didn’t return. He could barely meet my gaze and I honestly hated myself at that moment.

Bella came back, clutching a flannel button down, and with Edward, Rose and Emmett in tow.

I would have preferred to be in another car accident.

“Having some wholesome fun out here, kids?” Emmett was grinning like a mad man.

“Shut up, Emmett,” Jasper said quietly, standing up.

Edward crouched in front of me. “Alice?” he said kindly.

“I think I’ve cracked some of my ribs,” I said quietly, as if I were a child telling someone a secret.

“No, tell the truth, Alice,” Rosalie spoke up, her arms crossed over her chest. “You think Jasper broke your ribcage.”

“Don’t, Rose,” Emmett said to her. “Look at them, it’s like kicking a puppy.”

Rose growled under her breath.

Bella was very carefully helping me into the shirt that was at least two sizes too big, but buttoned up the front. Jasper was hovering, and all I really wanted was him to look at me, and talk to me.  

“Let’s get you into the house,” Edward said, still holding my other hand. “Jasper, you’ll have to carry her.”

Jasper looked alarmed. “I-”

“If you say you can’t, I will punch you,” Rosalie said crossly. “You can, and you will.”

I smiled weakly. “The things I do to get your to put your hands on me,” I joked, and Emmett guffawed in the background. “I’m going to be fine. I’ve broken my ribs before.”

“See?” Rosalie turned away. “Carlisle will be home soon, and we can work out a cover story before we take her to hospital.”

Jasper met my gaze as he bent down, and I sent all my thoughts of love, trust and reassurance at him.

He kissed the top of my head gently and gathered me up.

Carlisle and Esme got home fifteen minutes later; I was on the couch with several ancient ice-packs pressed to my side, with Bella, Edward and Jasper hovering, Emmett making tasteless jokes from the chair, and Rosalie glaring at us and muttering about steam-cleaning the inside of her car.

“What happened?” were Carlisle’s first words, drowning out Esme’s gasp. He was beside me in a second.

“Would you believe me if I said I fell down the stairs?” I said.

“Perhaps, if you hadn’t started that sentence with the phrase ‘would you believe me’,” Carlisle said.

“I hurt her,” Jasper said abruptly.

“Two or three fractured ribs,” Edward said, “maybe broken, on the right side.”

“Ah,” Carlisle said. “Maybe I examine them, Alice?”

“Go nuts,” I said, as Carlisle lifted my shirt, and began moving the ice packs away.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Esme breathed as they glimpsed my side. I knew from experience that my side would be many fantastic shades of blue and purple, but for people whose skin was harder than concrete, who couldn’t bruise or bleed, I’m sure it looked horrific. The ice packs had eased some of the general pain, and some of the swelling.

I could feel Jasper’s mortification and shame bleeding out of him, and reached for his hand.

“Those are some very impressive bruises,” Carlisle said simply. “You’ve definitely done some kind of damage, but we’ll need to take an x-ray to be sure.”

“What are you going to say when you take her in?” Rosalie spoke up. “Sorry, my pseudo-son got a little handsy and crushed this girl’s ribcage?”

“Rosalie!” Esme scolded.

“No, we need a cover story,” Carlisle said, looking down at me.

God, for people that have lived longer than the television had been invented, they really weren’t good at this.

“I fell down the stairs,” I said simply.

“Doing cartwheels or something,” Bella said slowly.

“And I landed funny,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be a fancy story. Just dumb teenager stuff.”

//

“A coven in Alaska are threatening our cousins in Denali,” Carlisle said gently. “The new coven is a group of eight, three of them newborns. They’ve already attacked once, and Eleazer wants us to visit, as a show of force.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“We’ll be leaving for a few weeks,” Jasper said to me.

“All of you?” I said, my eyes wide.

//

I was sitting on the back porch, watching the Cullens pack the cars, with a pout on my face. I’d blown off school to see them off – something I would no doubt pay for when I got home tonight.

Bella took a seat next to me. “We’re not going to be gone long,” she offered kindly.

“It’s going to be weeks,” I said miserably.

Rose looked at me, rolled her eyes and tossed me something shiny. I fumbled but managed to catch them – keys on a freaking expensive designer keychain. Keys to her BMW.

“I’ll be back for that, at least,” were her parting words.

I smiled. It was a huge gesture from her, but she wouldn’t want that acknowledged. She had an image to maintain, after all.

Jasper came out of the house, and pulled me into a hug. I sighed.

“We’ll be back,” he said, as he pressed a kiss to my head. “As soon as Eleazer is certain of their safety, we’ll be back.”

“Do you all have to go?” I said, slightly whiny. Some of us are still legitimate teenagers, after all.

“A show of numbers will help deter the nomads. I have the fighting experience, and a gift. Bella and Edward’s gifts, too, will be useful,” he tilted my head up.

“Not thrilled about the idea of gang warfare,” I scowled and he chuckled.

“Gang warfare?”

“I’m from California,” I said, but managed to mangle my accents and it came out like my old Mississippi drawl that made Jasper start snickering.

“We are going to be fine,” he reassured me. “Are you?”

I shrugged. “I’m a survivor,” I said.

“Hurry the hell up, Jasper!” Rosalie bellowed from one of the cars.

“She’s such a delicate flower,” I deadpanned, and Jasper was shaking from the effort of trying not to laugh.  

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too. Call me?” I sighed, pulling away. “Or email. I don’t want everyone listening in on me bitching about high school. Didn’t you say the sisters were from, like, twelfth-century Russia? Oh god, you’re going to be shut into some ridiculous ski lodge with beautiful blonde Russians in Alaska,” I moaned.

“I can assure you, the appeal of Tanya and her sisters fades once you hear their, ah, stories,” Jasper made a face. “I will be hanging around the Denali house, sending you dozens upon dozens of messages, waiting for the appropriate time to call and irritating Edward with my constant thoughts of you.”

Rose was now pressing the horn in an obnoxious pattern of sounds.

“Rosalie is going to spontaneously combust if you don’t leave now,” I said. “Kiss for the road?”

Jasper smiled and me, and pulled me back to him. “If the lady so wishes.”

//

“You take the pills, or you go to a hospital in Seattle, Alice,” Mom said flatly, holding out two pills and a glass of water. “I can have you there first thing tomorrow, if that’s what you choose. But those are your only options.”

//

The little white pills took only two days to drag me under.

It was like I was half-asleep all the time, and just going through the motions. My life revolved around how soon I could crawl back into my bed.

The nightmares didn’t really leave me, either – they simply turned soupy and surreal, and I no longer had the energy to scream. I would drag myself out of bed at the last minute, pull on whatever clothes came to hand, and pick at my toast in the car. At school, I drifted from class to class, until it was time to go home. Ellie was under strict orders to drive me to and from school for the time being, which made life easier. When I got home, I would simply shower and crawl into bed. Mom would usually wake me after dinner, with something to eat, before I went back to sleep.

My homework was ignored and my classwork was neglected badly. I pretty much quit dance classes, and had handed over Rose’s keys without resistance. The hard-won weight I had gained since I arrived in Forks slipped away. I had no interest in food or drawing or shopping.

Mom was happy, though. She didn’t seem to care that I was in danger of failing entirely, or that sleep was my focus. Weekends were the worst – I’d drag myself down for breakfast at noon, sleep until dinner and then go straight back to bed. Just showering and changing burnt away any dregs of energy I had left.

Mom had won the war, and I was medicated into oblivion. She didn’t care that I was still having nightmares, that I wanted to scream but couldn’t – she was sleeping through the night again.

Jasper was calling and messaging me regularly. It was exhausting to reply and pretend everything was fine. I wanted nothing more than for him to come home and be here, to beg him to come home to me. But I couldn’t do it. I knew he worried about me normally, being a totally ordinary, squishy little human, let alone with all my issues and problems. I didn’t want to validate all those fears by asking him to help me. I needed to be able to be without him. And he’d been gone for ages – they had to be getting ready to come home soon.  

I remember rolling over and finding Cyn and Ellie in my room; Ellie sitting on my desk chair backwards, Cyn lying next to me on the bed. I’d be having a nice dream for once, of Jasper and I, back at the Cullen house. Late afternoon sunlight was spilling through the windows, as Cyn and Ellie watched me.

“What’s up?” I yawned, burying my face back into my pillow.

“Just came to see if you were okay,” Ellie said evenly.

“You were crying,” Cyn said in a small voice. “You were calling out for Jasper Hale, and we didn’t want Mom to hear.”

I opened one eye at nodded at the pillow in Cyn’s lap. “You were going to smother me?” I slurred.

“We told you that you were dreaming and you stopped calling out,” Ellie said. “You look like shit.”

“It’s like 4pm. Can you guys let me sleep?” I huffed, burying myself under my quilt.

“Mom and Craig are fighting,” Cyn said. “About you.”

I blinked and sat up, groggy and miserable. “What did I do now?”

“Dad wants you to rejoin the land of the living or go to the hospital in Seattle,” Ellie said, picking up a china rabbit from my desk and inspecting it. “He thinks that this sleeping all the time is creepy as hell. I agree, for the record.”

“Mom thinks you just need some time to get used to the medicine,” Cyn said, stretching out on my bed, so our hair blended on the pillow.

I noticed after that, Cyn and Ellie were suddenly more helpful. Ellie started doing my laundry for me, clean clothing appearing folded in my bedroom every so often. Cyn would bring me up a drink every now and then – sometimes I would wake up to find her reading or playing on her phone next to me.

“Jasper called,” she told me one afternoon, sliding off the bed.

“I’ll call him back after dinner,” I said, flopping.

“I told him you were sleeping,” she said, looking guilty.

“You answered my phone?” I said, annoyed.

“He rang like five times,” Cyn said. “He said you haven’t called him back. He was making sure you’re okay. Which you aren’t.” And with that, she flounced out of the room.

The Beautiful & The Strange

I hissed as I caught my finger, a small cut opening on my finger.

And then I looked up to realise Jasper had crossed the room instantly, his eyes darkening and focused on the bead of blood welling on my finger tip.

Other than the obvious ‘time of the month’, when I made myself scarce, and the incident with James at the ballet school, I was careful not to bleed around the Cullens. They all said there was really no human equivalent of bloodlust for humans (though that question had sparked a frankly disturbing debate about the psychology of psychopaths and serial killers), and I believed them. I couldn’t imagine any sensation or thing that would inspire any member of this family to commit a murder. I couldn’t think of a thing that would drive me to kill someone I loved, either. Whatever bloodlust felt like, it was far out of my realm of understanding.

And now I was standing in my boyfriend’s study with my hand mid-air, a cut on my finger, and Jasper’s focus one hundred percent on that innocent drop of blood.

I won’t lie and say I wasn’t nervous. But I was more nervous that I wasn’t nervous, if that makes sense. He was tempted; his darkening eyes told me that. And if he truly wanted it, I would be exsanguinated and cold on the floor in seconds. No one was going to debate how deadly or effective a killer Jas was.

Instead, biting my lip, I watched as he gently took my wrist, as if I were made of porcelain, and pull my hand towards him, as the blood ran down my finger.

“Don’t,” I said softly, almost hoping it wouldn’t break the spell. He looked up at me. “I don’t want this to make it harder for you.”

He chuckled darkly and met my gaze as his lips wrapped around my finger. My mouth dropped open in surprise… and, um, something else a moment later, as his tongue lapped at the cut.

There wasn’t enough blood from that tiny cut to change his eye colour or even offer any satisfaction. It would only exasperate the burn in his throat, the tiniest taste of what he had been trying so hard to resist for so long. But as much as I tried to focus on the horrible ramifications of what had just transpired, I was losing the battle with the awareness that his tongue on my finger seemed to be connected to all of my extremities with a live wire.

I was suddenly terribly aware of how loud my breathing was, and how warm I was, and how Jasper was looking at me like a tiger might look at a bunny rabbit.

He released my hand and I pulled it away – the blood already clotting – and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him towards me hard, as I stood on my tip-toes, tugging him down to my level. Momentum and Jasper trying not to crush me meant that we ended up pressed against the wall, my hands tangled in his hair, legs around his waist, and his hands supporting my thighs. It was only my regular need for oxygen that pulled us apart, only for him to pull me into another kiss.

And these were kisses. Not the kind that a high school boyfriend gave a high school girlfriend. These were nothing like what we’d had before, and I’d been very – very – happy with our previous efforts.

These were deep and passionate, and definitely the precursor to something big. I was intensely away of his hands on my thighs, and how warm I felt, and how I didn’t feel like I was close enough to him, even though his belt buckle was going to leave an indentation in my skin.

And, frankly, he couldn’t deny that I was having the same effect on him. I could feel him hard against me through his jeans, and for a dazed second, I wondered if it would really be such a bad idea, if we could just get to the couch… He could take whatever he wanted from me and I would be a willing participant. My hips rocked against him as if they had a mind of their own and I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.

Jasper’s lips pulled away from mine, only to graze my cheek and jaw before taking up residence against my throat, licking and sucking, his teeth gently grazing the skin and I was vaguely aware that at any second, he could rip open that thin layer of skin and drain me dry – it was so much more important to focus on the fact that it felt like my whole body was throbbing in time with Jasper’s gentle sucking.

But before I could open my mouth and suggest that he just… help himself to whatever he wanted with my enthusiastic consent, there was a thump at the door and Edward stormed in, glaring at us.

Jasper pulled away only enough to twist around to growl slightly at the intruder, whilst I was suddenly aware of the position we’d been caught in.

“You need to stop now, Jasper,” Edward said in an even voice that was tinged slightly with irritation. “You’re influencing her, and you might hurt her.”

Jasper glared at him, and then turned to face me. I smiled at him, suddenly shy, and Edward let out a huff of air.

“Are you alright, Alice?” he asked, offering me a smile that was more of a grimace as Jasper finally put me on the ground, and seemed to truly realise what had just transpired between us, jerking away from me abruptly with a look of shame flashing across his face.

“I…” he just stared at me in horror.

I looked up at him, and then over at Edward. “Thank you. I know that probably wasn’t much fun to have to hear,” and then thought at him, ‘Jas and I need to talk. That was unexpected and a little messed up and he hates himself right now. Doesn’t like to be human.’

The irritation left his face and he shook his head, turning to leave. “It’s a small price to pay to make sure you’re okay,” he said, closing the door behind us.

Jasper was pacing, and refusing to look me in the eye. I could see the tension in every line of his body.

“Are you okay?” I asked gently, padding over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, making him freeze on the spot, but he didn’t say anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I continued. “I would have said somet…”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Jasper said coldly. “I was influencing you. I wanted it, so I made you want it. I wanted your blood, and I wanted your body, and I was going to take it and make you think it you wanted it too.”

I huffed and pulled away to face him, entangling his fingers in mine. “I think you are being a drama queen,” I said sweetly, and he scowled at me, trying to pull away until I started to pout, and then he gave up. “You probably were projecting. But don’t think for a minute that you were forcing me or coercing me into something I don’t want, too. I have dedicated a lot of hours into picturing that scenario – ask Edward, he’s probably overheard more than he wanted to.  

“And you, amazingly enough, are a vampire. You want blood. I cut myself. It was enough to trigger bloodlust and regular lust. Besides, when was the last time you even had sex?”

Jasper glared at me.

“I assume it was before the invention of the wheel?” I smirked and that cracked his façade.

“Don’t sass me, darlin’,” he murmured, pulling his hands from mine, to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I grinned, before I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry we can’t have sex,” I said to him with a soft sigh. “I’m sorry I’m stupid and human and breakable and I don’t want to be changed straight away. I wish I was like Bella and wanted to be changed as soon as possible, but I’m not. I just can’t.”

“Woah,” Jasper said, pulling me back, staring at me with surprise. “Alice, you don’t ever have to apologise for any of those things.  You deserve to have any life you want, and you shouldn’t ever feel that living your human life is wrong in any way.

“Darlin, you do not owe me or anyone else your humanity. You do not have to sacrifice your life to keep me or anyone else in this family with you. I should be apologising to you for not being able to give you a normal, human life. For being this… monster who cannot distinguish between bloodlust and physical lust…”

I shook my head as he trailed off. “I want so many things, and I think they’re impossible,” I whispered, and he reached out to trace my cheek.

“And I thought that after all the things I’d done and seen,” he said in a rough voice, “that all those things that I never admitted I wanted were impossible. And then a tiny girl in pink bounded up to me at a wedding, with the biggest blue eyes, and asked me my name. Now? I don’t think anything is really impossible.”

I smiled at him. “Don’t hate yourself,” I repeated. “I love you, and I know you, and I know that you would never force me to do anything I was uncomfortable with. Know that I’m pretty sure all those thoughts and feelings I’ve been inspiring in you, you inspire in me, too.”

Wonderland

It was quite strange to be in a house with more than a dozen vampires. It was the most uncomfortable I had ever been in the Cullen household – even though the Cullens had very carefully kept me to another section of the house. I hadn’t laid eyes on any of these ‘friends’ yet, but I was intensely aware of them. It was a very strange feeling.

Esme had, of course, fixed me an enormous dinner (for someone who hadn’t eaten in eighty years, Esme was a flawless cook. She claimed she practiced feeding the wolves) before Jasper marched me upstairs to go to bed.

“We don’t sleep. You do,” he said at my complaints.

“I’m fine,” I said, spinning around and out of his grasp. “I’d like to meet your friends.”

“And you will,” Jasper lunged suddenly, caught me around the waist and scooped me up like a bride. “Tomorrow morning, over breakfast. After at least eight hours sleep.”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” I complained, enjoying the feeling of being cradled against him, and thanked whoever gave me the visions that I hadn’t worn tights today – this was one of the rare occasions I had managed to get Jasper to put his hands on me.

Bella saw Jasper carrying me up the stairs and snorted with laughter.

“It will give us a chance to tell everyone about you,” Jasper said quietly. “Prepare them.”

“I’m pretty sure they would have smelt the human girl as soon as they hit the property line,” I said.

“Your visions, Alice.”

“Fine,” I huffed and then frowned in confusion as we walked past Jasper’s study. “Where am I staying?” I had slept on the couch in Jasper’s study a few times, and had expected to do so again. Knowing the sole purpose of beds in this household, I actually preferred a couch or chair.

There was a small doorway at the other end of the hall, underneath the stairs.

“Esme and I agreed that you needed some place to sleep, properly,” Jasper said, setting me on my feet and motioning to the door.

I pushed open the door and stared. It was a small room, with a huge window overlooking the forest. A bed sat in the middle of the room, made up with pretty blue floral bedding. Pretty sketches and watercolours of dancers and flowers were dotted around the room. A blue chair was in one corner, with a small writing desk and a narrow wardrobe.

“You didn’t buy all this for me,” I stammered.

“No,” Jasper smiled. “Old pieces we weren’t using. “Esme wanted you to be comfortable when you’re with us.”

I shook my head, smiling. “She already cooks for me and takes me shopping. She didn’t need to do this.”

“She wanted to. I wanted to,” Jasper reached out and cupped my cheek. “I want you to feel at home.”

“You’re here. How else would it feel?” I said softly, feeling my cheeks warm.

Twenty minutes later (ten of them filled with scorching kisses that I wish, wish, wish had gone further), I was in my pyjamas, tucked into my new bed.

I did end up sleeping deeply - though, I suspect, not without some emotional encouragement.

[crysta-cub]

Crysta’s Lamia Experience: A Good Move

After a week of recover, Crysta realizes that some big changes are needed to move forward.

AO3

Previous

Oh boy, has it been a long week. I’m not much for being a low energy creature, I do enjoy roaming and going out, but its harder to get away with coming and going without my human form. I was able to get my car returned to me, which was nice to not worry about that.

During this time I observed a few things that began to bother me. The first main issue was that this house just seemed to be just too small for one of our newest members of the family. Hero was struggling to get around. In my soul, I knew he would never complain, but going from free roaming in the forest to being shoved in an older home, built for humans. I knew Guardian also desired to roam and explore, it just never felt safe enough with his age. I was sure that Hero would also prefer to have some territory to explore and patrol. And if Hero was too big for the house, the ever growing Munchkin would also soon be too big.

The second problem, maybe a little to the fact that Butterscotch had become a bit more protective over his twins than originally thought. Alpha would be the only Lamia to be allowed in the room, barring Munchkin when I carried him in. I began to wonder when the older young lamias would want a room of their own.

The third, well Hero pointed it out to me. I’m no longer comfortable living here. The encounter with those hillbilly folks had really unnerved me. If they were able to track me and catch me while I was out in the open… maybe this place isn’t as safe as it once was. I’m finding myself more comfortable in areas closer to the pet shops, where all sorts of creatures seem to be able to live freely. It was like a bubble on earth that melded all sorts of realities.  

All week I kept tinkering away at my laptop, using some of my smaller forms with more dexterous toes, ranging from my Black-footed ferret form to my smooth-coated Otter to my Opossum, to manage the keyboards. I had an idea and hopefully the others would allow for this bit of change. I wouldn’t want to do anything that they would be uncomfortable with.

I think I found the perfect solution.

I called all the lamias for a family meeting. There was only a mild struggle getting Butterscotch to finally come out of the room, the twins took a little to be rocked to sleep before he could be carried away to the living room by Alpha. Butterscotch gave an affectionate huff as he was sat upon the cheetah printed throw pillow, I knew all would be fine.

Munchkin wiggled in Hero’s arms, he was just excited to see everyone in one place, calling out to his momma Butterscotch and waving frantically at him. Everyone turned to look at me expectantly. Well, I am the one to call the meeting, guess it’s time to get started.

“Alright everyone,” I shift my paws, currently sitting in my Greyhound form, “I have been noticing for a while that, well, to put it simply, I think this house has gotten to become a little too small for our family now. It’s definitely too small for Hero to get around comfortably and we’re probably going to be needing more rooms. I have been doing some research and I think I found a solution.”

I nudge the laptop around for the lamias to look at. It's a large two story wooden home with a wrap around deck and stairs leading to a trail into a large wooden area. A sizable fenced yard, large enough for Eevee to run herself silly and a fenced in pool, large and deep enough for a growing Twister.

Alpha approached the laptop and began to scroll through the pictures. It was a large lot with practically no neighbors. There were several rooms, a basement and garage. A theatre room that Guardian and Moonstone Oooo’d and Ahhh’d to. A sizable kitchen and not a tight space in sight, even the doorways seemed wider. There was something whimsical about it and the price… “How much isss it?”

“That’s the thing, It’s in the same area as Vex and Selie’s adoption centers and all those rescues we see online. All you have to do is want it hard enough and it’s ours. I just, don’t want to make a decision on it without you guys wanting for it too.”

“you want usss to move? now?” Butterscotch asked

“Well soon, there maybe something we’d have to get done, packing and all that.” I answered. “But only if all of you want to.”

“I think it would be bessst.” Hero commented, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You haven’t felt entirely ssssafe.”

I shrug, “I know I’m safe with you all here to protect me, but I do have a sense of unease. Like something could happen at any moment, and not just to me. But I also want you all to be comfortable and happy. I don’t want to force anything.”

“I really like it,” Moonstone piped up, “It looksss really cool and I think we can all be happy there, Munchkin can learn how to ssswim in sssomething bigger than the kiddy pool.”

“It looksss like there’sss a river along the trail.” Guardian began going through the outdoor pictures. “There’sss ssso much to explore.”

Alpha nodded then looked towards Butterscotch. “What do you think, love?”

Butterscotch took a moment to ponder, glancing from the images, to the teenage lamias to Munchkin. Then he glanced back to the singular lamia room. Coming to a decision, he looked back at me. “i think thisss isss a good idea. you ssshould go for it Crysssta.”

I smiled a doggy grin at Butterscotch, “alright, I should make a call to the agency.”

“Are you able to shift to your human form, not many can underssstand you otherwise.” Alpha ask, giving me a raised brow.”

“Hmmm, let’s see.” I felt for my human form and sure enough it seemed it had healed from the previous ordel. In a puff of red smoke, I shifted from my Greyhound form and emerged Human, still clothed in the clothes I was captured in. “Aside from the need to change, I think I’m doing better.”

Guardian and Moonstone cheer, Munchkin following their excitement a moment after. I can tell Hero is watching me, his relief filtering over to my soul.

“May I asssk sssomething?” Moonstone raised his hand, waving it around.

I smile down at him. “Sure.”

Moonstone turns towards Butterscotch, wringing his hands nervously. “Can I give you a hug, Momma Butterssscotch? I really misssssssed you this week.”

Guardian swept his tail over the floor. “Me too. We underssstand if your not ready yet.”

Butterscotch’s jaw trembled with emotion before throwing his arms open. “Of courssse. I misssssssed you two, too.”

Moonstone and Guardian rushed into his arms and into a deep hug. Munchkin began to fuss and squirm in Hero’s arms. Hero lowered him to the floor and allowed Munchkin to bolt forward. Moonstone and Guardian moved aside to let Munchkin join them. Alpha leaned back, smiling proudly at them before Butterscotch, pulled him into the cuddle pile.

I smile at them, leaning against Hero, feeling him finding joy at the sight. Maybe Butterscotch might ease up on his protectiveness soon, though with a move, who knows how that would change. Well, looks like there’s a phone call to make.

It would take a few weeks to pack up the house, toss or donate things we just didn’t need anymore. But once it was all said in done, we got into the new house with very little stress. No one would let me take any other room than the master bedroom, with a bathroom that had a tub big enough for even Hero to be able to soak in.

I abandoned the old bed, one little queen size bed was no longer enough. I opted for two cal king beds, side by side, creating a colossal bed that would fit Hero comfortably, and myself, especially if I chose to be in my largest snake form, one that has been described to be a 16ft snake with the markings of a Diamond-back Rattler, with the rattle, the hood and fangs of a king cobra, all on a body much to the size and strength of an Anaconda. One of the many species of the universe that hadn’t had a name to it. Hero kindly refused to have his own room, I can feel that he really just wants to be close to me. I don’t mind sharing.

It seemed that aside from the obvious Dragon form, most to all my forms will fit within the house. It was like a dream come true. A dream home. I know we’ll all be happy here.

Alpha and Butterscotch claimed the next room, one with a beautiful bay window, overlooking the forest behind them. There were plenty of napping spaces, most hidden for when Butterscotch needed a little extra space. There was a safe little nursery section where the twins Tempest and Nightwish could be found sleeping and playing. While everything was still being arranged, Butterscotch maintained his stance of keeping the babies to himself. Moving boxes could be dangerous and a certain curious pup wasn’t always great at being gentle.

Moonstone and Guardian’s room was more of a play room than a bed room, still preferring to sleep with me and Hero. Video games and board games, everything in their proper spots as well as cubbies for their collections of shiny outdoor collectibles. Munchkin would be able to pick out a room when he’s older, for now he enjoys drifting from either my room or Butterscotch and Alpha’s room, as well as joining Moonstone and Guardian to play in their room.

Last box put away for the day to be dealt with later. I flop down on the couch, Eevee jumping up to sniff at my face before running off to explore more of the house. She’s been loving it, except for being locked outside when the doors were left open, don’t need her running off in unfamiliar territory. Hero comes over and hands me a glass of water. I thank him and watch as he coils up next to the couch.

“This place really feels like home.” I comment before taking a sip of water. Hero nods, the tip of his tail taps the ground. I can feel a little bit of nervousness coming from him before he slowly wraps it around my leg. I smile, sending a happy acceptance to his forward motion. I motion for Hero to lean closer, waiting for him to be close enough to lean back against him. A pleased rumble resonates from his chest before he wraps an arm around my waist and rests his skull against my head.

I reached up and began to pet him behind his hood. Yea, things are definitely shaping up just nicely. Definitely a good move.

[ladylillianrose]

Zoey’s Extraordinary Prom a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

Summary: Max finds out that Zoey never attended her Senior Prom and he decides to remedy that.

A/N:I just can't resist a good Max does something over the top and ridiculously sweet for Zoey plot bunny, so here it is!

Special thanks as always to my favorite beta (and not just because she's my only one!) aubreyrichman.

Lee and Caroline are making yet another appearance so you can thank Jade4813 for creating them (If you haven't read her fic The Wedding Date you need to right now! Though really go read all of her stuff cause it's amazing!)

If you are curious about Zoey’s dress here’s the link https://dreampromdress.storenvy.com/products/15409062-elegant-white-deep-blue-lace-knee-length-vintage-dresses-cute-party-dress

AO3

"Thanks for coming by to help me go through this stuff, Zoey," Max said as he grabbed another box from the pile.

"And miss the opportunity to see a bunch of embarrassing things from your childhood and teen years? What kind of best friend would I be if I missed this?" Zoey smiled at him.

"Why exactly did your parents decide to suddenly send all your stuff to you?"  Zoey asked as she opened another box.

"Mom got really into the whole Marie Kondo thing and cleared out the whole garage. She said it was our stuff and it was up to us to go through it," Max said, as he placed more things in the box labeled for donations. 

"You mean she did this for all you guys?" Zoey raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, Scott and Evelyn live nearby so they just went and grabbed their things. But she had to ship mine and Lee's."

She laughed, "Oh, I bet Caroline is having a grand old time going through Lee's stuff."

Max grinned, "I know Lee has far more embarrassing things in his boxes."

"You mean more embarrassing than this?" Zoey held up Max's Senior yearbook in triumph.

"That's not that embarrassing. There are hardly any pictures of me in there." 

Zoey sat down on the couch and started flipping through the yearbook. She found Max's senior photo and grinned. "Awww look at that baby face!" she teased.

Max rolled his eyes, "Come on, Zo, we've got a lot to go through."

She stuck her tongue out at him and continued to flip through the pages. She paused as she looked at the ones labeled "Senior Prom photos by Maxwell Richman."

"You took photos for the yearbook?" Zoey held up the book to show him.

"Oh yeah, I dabbled in photography a bit," he grinned.

"I'm sure your date was thrilled that you spent the evening taking pictures instead of dancing."

"Actually, I didn't have a date," Max shrugged. "Saved me the embarrassment of being rejected by any the girls that I would have asked."

Zoey frowned.  Who in their right mind would reject Max? He's every girl's dream, sweet, funny, smart, hot....Nope don't go there Zoey, you guys are just friends.

Max saw her frown, "It was fine. I had more fun photographing everyone and just hanging out with my friends. In fact," he peered over her shoulder to look at the pages. "Ah, there I am," he pointed to a picture which showed him laughing with a group of friends. "One of the other photographers took that one."

Zoey smiled, "Looks like it was a lot of fun."

Max shrugged, "Probably not that much different from your prom."

"I didn't go to mine, so I wouldn't know."

Max looked at her in surprise, "You didn't go to prom? Not even with a group of friends?

She shook her head, "I was so busy studying for the APs that prom slipped my mind. Not that I was really interested in going anyway. Loud music, people who I hardly knew, and uncomfortable clothing? Hard pass."

"And you don't feel like you missed out?"

She shrugged, "I mean, now I do, but at the time I figured there wasn't much point in going, especially if I didn't have anyone to go with."

Max nodded in understanding, as Zoey closed the yearbook and placed it in the keep pile.

"It would be nice to have had the memories and the experience, but it's too late now," Zoey turned and started to sort through another box.

Max watched her as she silently worked, feeling sad that she had missed out on such a big high school experience. He could feel the beginnings of a plan forming, but he was going to need some help.

________________________________________________________________

"You want to do what?" Mo stared at Max as he explained his idea.

"I want to throw Zoey a prom," Max said as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

"And what exactly brought about this idea?"

"Zoey missed out on her prom, and while it won't be exactly the same, I want to give her the experience," Max nervously looked at Mo. "You think it's a crazy idea don't you?"

"Oh, it's absolutely a crazy idea. Luckily, it's exactly my brand of crazy," Mo grinned at him.

Max let out a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank goodness."

Mo laughed, "So, I take it you require my DJ skills?"

Max nodded, "And I want it to be a surprise for Zoey, so do you think you could figure out a dress for her?"

"Oh, I'll do more than just that. She'll get the full prom experience, hair, makeup, nails the works. Ooo, I know the perfect dress to make for her!" 

Max grinned as he watched Mo immerse himself in the plans.

"Oh and I'll take care of you too, Max-a-licious," Mo sent him a wink.

"Me?" Max looked at him in surprise. "I was just going to rent a tux."

Mo rolled his eyes, "Max, I adore you, but no. We're going to go find you a nice suit which I will make sure is tailor-fit for you."

Max nodded in agreement, not quite sure what he had gotten himself into. 

________________________________________________________________

"I think it's a wonderful idea!" Maggie said as he explained the plan to her. "I always thought she should have gone to prom, but this will be so much better."

Max grinned, "Mo is going to DJ and get Zoey ready, Tobin agreed to man the photo booth, and I've booked the limo "

"So, what do you need from us?" Maggie asked, glancing at Mitch.

"Would you be able to put together a corsage and boutonniere?"

Maggie scoffed, "Child's play. I can make some centerpieces too."

Max breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh, could you get David and Emily to come as well? It's not a real prom without other people there."

Maggie grinned, "Of course. And I hope you're going to let us take all the pre-prom parent pictures!"

He chuckled, "I wouldn't dream of you guys missing out on that!"

Max stood completely still as Mo began sticking pins into his pants, careful not to move for fear of risking Mo's wrath. 

"Mo! Have you seen my..." Zoey burst through the door and came to a stop as she stared at Max.

"Oh umm, hey Zo," Max tried to sound casual as she stared at him.

Zoey's eyes raked along his naked torso and quickly back up to his face as she realized what she had been doing. She felt herself getting warm as she stared at him.  Who knew Max was hiding that under his clothes?! Down Zo, he's your best friend….your really attractive and surprisingly toned best friend….

"What's happening here?" She vaguely gestured to the two of them.

"Max was in desperate need of a makeover," Mo said, glancing up at her.

"Oookay…." Zoey found her eyes drifting back to Max's abs before she could stop herself. "Anyway...I was just coming by to ask you something, but I forgot...so since you're busy, I'll just leave you to it," she rambled. She backed away slowly to the door, unable to pull her eyes away from Max's body. She fumbled for the doorknob blindly as she stared at him.

"Hey Zoey, my eyes are up here," Max teased.

She turned bright red and quickly fled through the door.

"Ouch," Max said as he felt a pinprick. 

Mo glared at him, "Cause she wasn't flustered enough by you?"

"Was she really?" Max looked pleased.

"She didn't take her eyes off you once and couldn't remember why she came over, I'd say that's pretty flustered," Mo replied, shaking his head. "You know she's just as gone for you as you are for her right?"

"What? No, doesn't think of me like that. We're just friends," Max stammered. Was Mo right? Did Zoey feel the same? She had been staring at his bare chest the whole time....

Mo sighed, "Lord, give me the strength to deal with these oblivious fools."

________________________________________________________________

Prom Day

Zoey was making her morning coffee when she heard a knock on the door.

Confused, she walked over to find a courier holding an envelope.

"Zoey Clarke?"

"That's me."

"Sign here," he thrust a tablet and stylus into her hands. 

She signed quickly and the courier handed her a slim envelope before leaving. 

She opened the envelope and found what appeared to be a pair of tickets. She hadn't ordered any tickets to anything, so where did these come from?

She looked at the tickets which said, "Senior Prom 2020."

Well, that didn't answer any of her questions at all. Did she have some poor kid's prom tickets? Wait prom was usually in the Spring, not the Fall. So then, what was going on?

Mo walked through her door, "Oh good, you're up. Come on, we've got lots to do and little time to do it."

"What is going on?" Zoey asked.

Mo just smiled, "You just wait and see, now let's go!"

________________________________________________________________

Max was busily setting up decorations for the evening with help from Maggie, David, and Emily, while Mitch supervised from his chair.

"You know, I didn't go to my senior prom either," David commented.

Emily glanced at him, "I'm not throwing you a prom."

"That's not what I was saying at all," David sputtered. 

She rolled her eyes, "Mmhmm, sure you weren't."

"I just think it's funny that neither Zoey nor I went to our proms is all. But now that you mention it…."

Emily playfully threw a roll of crepe paper at him as he laughed and ducked out of the way.

"You can go to this one, I'll even be your date. Not like you can knock me up any more than I already am," Emily replied, patting her baby bump.

"You're so romantic, how could I say no to that offer," David teased.

Max chuckled as Maggie shook her head at them.

"Get back to work you two, or I'll ground you and you'll have to miss prom," Maggie threatened.

David threw a salute at Maggie and went back to work hanging crepe paper and lights.

Max looked around at the backyard, everything was starting to come together nicely. He glanced at his watch, "Okay, I've got to go get ready. But we should be back in about an hour. Thanks for all your help with everything."

Maggie grinned and handed him the corsage box, "It's us that should be thanking you! I haven't had this much fun in a long time."

Max smiled and gave Maggie a brief hug before racing out the door to get ready.

Maggie shook her head at his eagerness.

"Twenty dollars says Zoey kisses him behind the tree," Emily said to David.

David laughed, "Oh, there's no way she makes the first move. You're on."

Emily glanced at Maggie, “Are you in?”

"I say she kisses him, but behind the hydrangea bushes," Maggie said with a knowing grin.

________________________________________________________________

Zoey sat in front of the mirror as Mo worked his magic with her hair, she still had no idea what she was getting ready for. Mo had taken her to get her nails done and then they'd headed back to the apartment where he'd been working on her hair for what felt like hours.

"There, all finished," Mo said, disappearing into the other room. He had styled her hair in a chignon, leaving some curls loose to frame her face. It was simple yet elegant, and Zoey was rather pleased with how pretty it looked.

"So, where am I going that I need to go to all this effort?" Zoey called, as she admired her hair in the mirror.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Mo replied. He returned holding a gorgeous, white tulle and navy blue lace vintage-style dress.

"Is that for me?" Zoey gasped.

Mo nodded, "Custom made by yours truly. Now come on, let's get you in this so I can do your makeup next."

________________________________________________________________

Max nervously stood outside Mo's apartment holding the corsage. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. 

Mo opened the door and grinned at him, nodding in approval at his suit.  "Zoey! Your date is here!" Mo called, as Max followed him inside.

Zoey came out from the other room and Max felt his breath catch, she looked gorgeous. 

"You look amazing," he managed to say once his powers of speech returned.

Zoey blushed, smoothing her hands nervously along the skirt of her dress. She smiled at him, "You clean up pretty well yourself, but where exactly are we going?"

Max smiled at her softly, "We're going to prom, of course."

She looked at him confused, "Prom? But its Fall…"

He grinned, "There have been some special arrangements made." He opened the box and placed the beautiful white roses on her wrist.

Mo nudged her from the side with a small box containing a boutonniere for him. She nervously attempted to pin it to his jacket, as her hands shook. Finally succeeding, she looked up and smiled at him.

"Okay kids, let me get a few pictures now," Mo snapped photos of them, making them pose several ways before he finally let them go.

"Make good choices!" he teasingly called as they left.

Max led Zoey downstairs to where the limo was waiting for them.

"You rented a limo?" Zoey looked at him in shock.

"It's part of the full prom experience," he said, helping her inside before joining her.

"So, where are we really going?" Zoey asked.

Max just grinned, "I told you we're going to prom."

Zoey pouted, "Okay fine, don't tell me."

The drive was surprisingly quick, and soon Zoey found herself realizing that they had stopped at her parents' house. "What are we doing here?" she asked.

Max smiled, helping her out of the car and leading her towards the house.

The door opened and Maggie was standing there smiling at them.

She ushered them inside, "You two look wonderful! Oh, let me get my camera!" She ran to the other room and quickly returned with her phone.

"Just a few pictures!" Maggie promised, snapping away.

When Maggie was finally done taking pictures, Max grabbed Zoey's hand and led her towards the back door.

"Welcome to your senior prom, Zoey," Max smiled and opened the door.

Zoey gasped as she walked out and saw that the backyard had been transformed. There were streamers and lights, tables, and a photo booth, and Mo had set up his DJ equipment, it looked just like a high school prom! She laughed when she noticed David, Emily, Tobin, and even her mom and dad were all dressed for prom as well.

"Make some noise for your Prom King and Queen, Max Richman and Zoey Clarke!" Mo announced.

Everyone burst into cheers and applause as Tobin ran forward with to place the crowns on their heads. "It was a landslide victory, and I didn’t even need to stuff the ballot box," he grinned.

Max rolled his eyes and guided Zoey further into the yard.

"Max, this is amazing," she said once she regained the ability to speak. 

"You like it?" He asked.

"No one has ever done anything like this for me before. I love it!" she threw her arms around him in a hug.

Max smiled as he returned the hug. "Well, Prom Queen, shall we dance?"

Zoey grinned and took his outstretched hand, "Dancing with the Prom King? I'll be the envy of all the girls."

They danced the night away and took numerous cheesy prom pose pictures at the photo booth.

Zoey grinned as she danced in Max's arms. 

"So, glad you went to prom?" Max asked.

"It was almost perfect," Zoey sighed.

"Almost? What did I miss?" Max looked confused.

Zoey grinned and dragged him behind the hydrangeas bush. 

Emily and David both sighed as they watched the couple disappear and they each handed a grinning Maggie a twenty. 

Behind the hydrangea bush, Max looked confused. "Hydrangeas were what was missing?" he asked.

"No, this is," she said and pulled him into a kiss.

Max returned her kiss eagerly, pulling her closer to him. He felt her breath catch as he nibbled on her lower lip teasingly. They broke apart panting and grinning.

"I've always wanted to do that, " Zoey said.

"What kiss me?" Max teased.

"Well yes there is that, but I always wanted to bring a guy back here to make out with," she blushed.

"You're welcome to drag me back here anytime you want," he grinned as he pulled her into another kiss.

[the--sad--hatter]

Name Changing (8)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, X-MEN, DEADPOOL

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  Sequel to Name Calling

After merging with your bloodthirsty alternate personality things start getting a little dicey. You’ve got two decades worth of anger to sort through, a feral mutation to figure out how to live with, a biological father who you hate trying to teach you control and if your wedding planner suggests teal for the bridesmaids again you might just eat her liver.

Luckily you have Bucky Barnes by your side, helping you figure things out. What Bucky doesn’t know is that you have found an outlet for the uncontrollable rage, one that absolutely nobody can know about. If your friends and family knew that you were out slaughtering people in the dead of night while they slept, they might be a little annoyed. Wade Wilson is happy to keep your secret though, so long as you keep bribing him with Mexican food.

For as long as you could remember, all you had wanted was to be good. Now you’re seeing the temptation in the darkness.

Chapter Eight - Doctor Doctor, I Think I’m a Killer!

The next week was a whirlwind of activity and you barely had time to breath. The next meeting with the wedding planner went a lot more smoothly for some reason and you eventually found out that while you were away, Darcy had taken Erlo to the planning appointments.

The Bridesmaids were wearing Stark Red like you had requested, The Grooms-men were wearing blue, the church (after a hefty donation from Tony) was booked, your dress was awaiting the final alterations, the caterers were booked, the flowers were ordered, the guest-list was finalised... Or so you thought...

“Kit Kat, last chance to invite him.” Tony prompted when he cornered you in the kitchen.

“Why? Why would I invite him?” You demanded.

“He’s your father.”

“No, You’re my father. He was a sperm doner.” You snarled.

“I thought you were getting along with him better?” Tony asked.

“Just because I can work with him, doesn’t mean I want him at my wedding.” You hissed.

“Alright kid, calm down and quit hissing at me like a feral cat. You’re inviting the rest of the X-Men, you can’t not invite him.” Tony admonished you.

“Why are you pushing this? You don’t like him either.” You grouched.

“Because he is your father, even if I’m much better at it. And one day, maybe, just maybe, you’ll realise that you don’t hate him and you’ll regret that he wasn’t there.”

It took all of your self control not to snarl at Tony again.

“I don’t want him there. End of story.” You said, slamming the coffee pot down so hard it shattered.

You and Tony froze and looked at it.

“I’ll clean that up.” You whispered.

“Uh yeah, you will. And fine, invite literally everyone at Xavier’s except your biological father... that won’t be awkward. Especially since Remy RSVP’d yes...” He said, rolling his eyes.

You ignored him and started sweeping up the broken glass, trying to breathe through the anger. Not only was wedding planning was getting to you, you were waking up every night from nightmares about falling and indescribable pain.

Bucky was almost as exhausted as you but he was holding the both of you together, taking over as much of the wedding stuff as he could so you could spend the days at the school, helping Ryan adjust.

The young boy was skittish and nervous, always looking around like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and everything to go wrong. His mutation was powerful and amazing, he had to the power of manifestation, something that lay in the realm of telekinesis. Whatever he pictured, happened. On the plane he had been picturing escaping, freedom and had inadvertently blown the plane doors off.

Two nights this week so far he’d been too scared to be left alone and you’d stayed at the school so you could be close by, which when your nightmares came was awkward.

It was Logan’s face you saw when your eyes snapped open and he looked concerned. You looked away in shame that he had seen you so vulnerable and come to wake you up.

“You good?” Logan’s gruff voice asked you.

You took a deep breath and turned round to glare at him coldly. You bit your tongue, he had just woken you up from the nightmare and you didn’t want to start a fight in the middle of the night so you nodded at him. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Your eyes flicked to the clock on the bedside. 4:37am. You were supposed to be up soon anyway, you had to stick with Ryan for his first day of classes. Logan saw you check the clock and deduced what you were thinking easily.

“I’ll put coffee on.” He grunted at you and left without waiting for a response, closing the door to the spare room and leaving you in solitude.

Your jaw clenched automatically as you violently tore the spare clothes Jean had given you out of the wardrobe and pulled them on before creeping downstairs as quietly as you could.

When you got to the kitchen you stopped dead with a almost comical look of confusion on your face.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” You asked.

Logan looked up from the pan he was currently manning, trademark cigar hanging from his mouth and the ash from it precariously close to dropping into the pan.

“Making breakfast, .” He muttered, flicking the cigar ash into the sink and looking up at you.

“You Avengers eat that sort of thing right?” He asked sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head in exasperation

Logan stayed silent, choosing to focus instead on pushing the bacon around the pan. The sounds of it sizzling were the only sounds in the kitchen as you sighed heavily and tried to think of something to say. You didn’t hate your father anymore exactly but you didn’t exactly know what to say around him either and the feeling was mutual.

You went to pour yourself a cup of coffee and paused, a cup was already poured for you. Your eyes flicked up to Logan who was watching you, a challenge on his face. You suddenly felt exhausted, what had it come to between you that a cup of damn coffee was such a big thing? Your shoulders tensed up as you clenched the mug in your fist and brought it to your lips. Logan’s eyes watched her carefully as you drank and you forced a friendly grin as you sat down.

“Thanks.” You said.

“You’re welcome.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I don’t know how to act around him, I don’t know whether I hate him or I want his approval.” You admitted, throwing yourself dramatically onto the green sofa.

“It’s natural to seek approval from a father figure but understandable that you also feel anger at the father who abandoned you.” Doc Samson reasoned.

“He didn’t abandon me.” You responded.

“Logically you know that, do your emotions know that though?”

You didn’t grace him with an actual answer, just grumbled at him.

“Alright, let’s talk about something else. How have your murderous tendancies been?” He said, changing the topic to a no less pleasent one.

“I haven’t killed anyone since I chucked a dude out of a plane.” You said proudly, preening.

God, how were you proud of yourself for not killing someone in w whole week?

“And how has your mood been?” He pressed.

“Awful. I can feel the anger in me building and building, every little thing annoys me and I find myself justifying things in my mind that aren’t justifiable. Like killing the caterer would be totally fine so long as nobody knew it was me.”

“The longer you go without killing the more your morals loosen. Are you worried that if you keep shoving your darker impulses away that Vernichtung will be reborn?” He asked.

Well if that wasn’t hitting the nail on the head you didn’t know what was.

“It’s how she was born in the first place, now I’m merged with her all that darkness is my responsibility but I still have the good in me. The good seems further and further away every day.” You told him, grabbing a box of kleenex and tossing it in the air and catching it.

“Letting it out in controlled bursts, unleasing on criminals and villians... It seems like a win/win strategy so why are you resisting?” He asked you.

“Because it’s getting harder and harder to hide it. I can’t keep dissapearing, sooner or later someone’s going to figure out that the mysterious killer who accompanies Deadpool on the same nights I’m with him is me.” You said.

“Well it seems to me that all you need is a better cover story.” He suggested.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Are you really sanctioning murder and lying to my loved ones?” You asked him.

“Nobody can tie me back to you, that’s why we meet in this empty building and not my office. So I’m free to reccomend what is best for you, not what I’m supposed to reccomend. You are not normal, it would be stupid of me to treat you like you were. I’m sanctioning you letting out your darkness on those who deserve it before you hurt your loved ones, and lying is often just another word for protecting.”

“So you think I should find a better way to hide my bloody hobbies so I can go about my killing ways without arousing suspicion?” You clarified.

“I do.”

“Ok, I’ll work on it.”

“Now, your wedding is in a few days and you’ll be in Vegas for your hen party before that. Don’t you think you should see your friend Deadpool tonight?”

“Yeah, best go on a little murder spree before I end up Deathwaving half the wedding party...” You agreed.

“Excellent, well then I shall see you again after your honeymoon.” He said, standing up.

“You sure you can’t come to the wedding?” You asked his as you left.

“I’m afriad not, I have plans with my brother this weekend.” He said with a mischevios smirk.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You: I need to see you tonight.

Daddypool: GREAT! Cause I have a wedding present for you...

You: If it’s another tasteful nude, I don’t want it. (Though I do think the strateically placed daffodils were a nice touch.)

Deadpool: I told you, I meant to send it to Cap not you.

You: So that’s why he was screaming. What’s the present then?

Deadpool: Not a what, a who. A very naughty boy who needs punished and it’s not me.

“Hello Kitten.” Someone whispered in your ear and in a very unherolike display of bravery you shrieked and threw your phone in the air, twisting round to glare at a smirking Loki with your hand clasped to your heart.

“Stop doing that!” You yelled at him.

He chuckled at you as you picked up your phone off the ground.

“What do you want?” You snapped at him.

“I need a favour dear kitten, I have plans this evening that I would prefer remain unknown. I need you to say you are with me if anyone asks.” He told you.

You started to question him but stopped, this was perfect. You and Loki could be each other Alibi’s.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Try not to do anything too diabolical though.” You said.

He just smirked at you and you hoped you weren’t making a mistake. You ddin’t think whatever he was doing would be too bad though... It was Loki and he was a good person deep down, he’d never betray you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Aight, I'm just gonna say it... Loki is a great therapist.

SO BEGINS THE WEDDING SHENNANGINS! I'd love to hear your hopes, fears and theories for what's going to go down over the course of these chapters. We've got Vegas for the hen party, that'll go well right? Will the ceremony go off without a hitch? Will there be drama amongst the fluff at the reception? Where will they Honeymoon? Just how much smut can I write?

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first @thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala @the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes @fairislesheets @angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty @memanda17  @krystallynx @theonelittleone @piscesbarnes @free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard @dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews @likes-to-smell-books @drdorkus @life-wanderer @metalarmlover  @animegirlgeeky @jsmith509 @chipilerendi @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @ericasabe @gravedollie666 @madlykpopfan @l0kisbitch @mywinterwolf @sassysweetstories @life-wanderer @jessieray98 @littledeadrottinghood @myfandomlife-blog @spnrvt @dahkness @sexyvixen7 @dilaila95

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Don’t Worry, Be Happy

I noticed I haven’t written anything featuring Starchild and Black Dahlia being bros together, so I decided to write this. I’ll also be moving into my dorm at college on Saturday, so I wanted to write one last story before I leave. This story was partially inspired by my going dress-shopping with my mom for a wedding yesterday. 

Today on the Black Dahlia series, Heather is left feeling empty and depressed after losing her powers, and Paul tries to temporarily mend that. Enjoy!

When Heather forced her eyes open, she immediately wanted to close them again. Another day on Planet Earth, guaranteed to be lousy.

Nonetheless, she knew she had to get up. The band was spending one more day in Philadelphia before heading out again to the next city, and she knew the guys would want to spend it sightseeing. She didn’t particularly want to sightsee, but knew they would want her to come along. Oh well. She could always challenge Gene to a race up the Rocky steps at the art museum.

So she hauled herself up out of bed and went to her suitcase to pull out a shirt and pants. She dressed, her movements slow, then splashed some cold water on her face and ran a brush through her blonde hair. She was about to grab her sunglasses and leave her hotel room, then suddenly stopped at the sight of her purse. For some reason, she felt compelled to bring it with her. At the last moment, she grabbed it and left her hotel room.

When she entered the breakfast area, she found Paul was already there, sunglasses firmly over his eyes as he ate at a table in the corner. She quickly got her breakfast—it was fruit, mainly—and went to sit across from him.

Paul looked up at her as she sat down. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Heather murmured back, picking up her fork and spearing a piece of cantaloupe.

“How’d you sleep?”  

“Fine,” Heather forced herself to lift the fork to her mouth and eat the piece of fruit. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but knew that if she didn’t eat now she would regret it later.

Paul scrutinized her. “Are you sure? You look like you didn’t.”

“I slept fine,” Heather said curtly. She couldn’t bring herself to snap at her best friend. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re still asleep.”

There was silence as they both ate. Heather finished after Paul, since although her breakfast was rather meager compared to his, he had already been there for some time. Paul looked at her plate as she finished. “Is that all you’re eating?”

Heather looked down at her empty plate and shrugged. “Probably,”

Paul gazed at her with a look Heather couldn’t quite figure out. Then he nodded. “Right. C’mon, grab your purse.”

He stood up. Heather looked at him in confusion, to which he waved his hand. “C’mon!”

Heather stood up, though she was still confused. “Uh, what are you doing?”

Paul grabbed her hand and escorted her out of the breakfast area. “We are going out together,” he said, in a tone that suggested there was no room for argument. “We are going to have fun, and you are going to like it.”

“I get the feeling I’m not going to like it,” Heather stated.

Paul turned to her. “C’mon, Heather, please? We haven’t spent time together in ages.”

That was true—they hadn’t spent time together, just the two of them, in a very long time. But Heather still wasn’t sure. “I don’t know—”

“I’ll order you as Prince of KISSteria to have fun,” Paul threatened. “And we both know how much I hate doing that.”

That was also true; Paul liked pulling rank about as much as Gene liked being away from Vinneketh. Heather sighed heavily. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Paul grinned at her. “Nope!” he said cheerfully. “Now c’mon!”

He pulled her hand and began to run out of the lobby. In spite of herself, Heather had to crack a smile.

Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad…

-EARTH-

Of course the first place Paul took her to was a clothing store. But to his credit, it was a smaller store, not a bigger brand store.

Heather voiced this aloud: “A clothing store—how typical of you,”

“Not my fault you don’t have better clothes to wear. Because right now,” he gestured to her clothing, “you look ghastly.”

Heather looked down at her clothes. “I do not!”

“Yes, you do. That’s why we’re here. I actually thought you would like the clothes here the first time I came.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now let’s see what we can find.”

Heather found herself following Paul around the store as he looked at the clothing on the racks. He would take a piece of clothing off the rack, hold it up next to Heather, then either shake his head and put it back or give it to her to fold over her arm. He picked out shirts, pants, a couple dresses and skirts, and a couple scarves.

“Don’t I get an opinion on what you pick out?” Heather asked at one point.

“Hush, Sister, and let the master do the work,” was the reply she got.

Once he finished selecting things out for her, he dragged her over to the fitting rooms and they sorted out the selections. “Okay, try on this,” he gave her a shirt, “with this,” a pair of pants, “and… this,” a scarf.

When Heather came out wearing the clothes, Paul looked her over skeptically. “It looks all right… How does it feel?”

Heather shifted around. “I’m not sure… how is it supposed to be?”

“It’s supposed to feel right for you. It looking nice is a side perk. Does it feel right?”

Heather looked at herself in the mirror. It looked nice… but the pants felt rather tight, and something just felt off about the colors of the shirt. “… Not really,”

Paul nodded. “Okay. Go take it off.” Once she had done that, Paul handed her another outfit to try on. “Try this outfit.”

When she came out wearing this outfit, she and Paul looked at it in the mirror. “This one looks better,” Paul observed. “How does it feel?”

Heather looked down at the pants. “I don’t really like the pants… Can we try the shirt with something else?”

“Sure,” Paul went over to the selections and rifled through them, then took out a skirt and handed it to her. “Try it with this.”

Heather put on the skirt, then came out and looked again. She had to stare at herself for a second.

The shirt definitely went better with the skirt, and both looked good on her. She let a small smile come to her face. “I like this better,”

Paul smiled. “It looks better. And I think if you put your hair up like this…” he twisted her hair up into a bun, then his smile widened. “Oh yeah, that’ll look amazing.”

Heather gazed at her reflection, and smiled again. She did look kind of pretty. She wasn’t used to wearing clothes with the intention of looking or feeling pretty. She wore simple clothes because she’d worn simple clothes from the moment she’d started living with the Sisterhood. They weren’t concerned with their looks. “I guess it does look kind of pretty…”

Paul smiled at her in the mirror and let her hair fall back down. “Want to try on something else?”

Ah, what the heck? “Sure,”

Paul practically bounded over to the selections and began rifling through them. “Aren’t you going to get something for yourself?” Heather asked him.

Paul scoffed as he put together an outfit. “I don’t need to. I look good in everything.”

“Yeah, everything but your “Tears Are Falling” costume,”  

“… That one doesn’t count.”

Heather laughed.

Paul turned around and pointed at her, but he was smiling even as he did so. “Shut up, you,” he said, even though he sounded like he was trying not to laugh, “and try these on,”

-EARTH-

They left the store with a couple large bags of clothes, after spending more time than Heather thought necessary in the store. “I think we have enough to burn your old clothes,” Paul said cheerfully as they walked down the sidewalk.

“You do that and I’ll draw on your face while you sleep,”

Paul thought for a moment, then looked at her apprehensively. “You wouldn’t,”

Heather smiled devilishly at him. “Oh, but I would,”

There was a short pause, then Paul relented. “Okay, fine, we won’t burn your clothes… Can we donate them?”

Heather considered that. “… Some of them,”

Paul smiled triumphantly. “I’ll take it,”

Heather rolled her eyes. “So, what’s next on our tour of Philadelphia?”

“Well, Independence Hall is nearby if you want to go there,”

Heather perked up at that. She was always down for appreciating history—as a member of the order responsible for preserving KISSteria’s history, she had been surrounded by it almost her entire life. “Can we?”

Independence Hall was certainly impressive. She could just feel the history radiating off the walls. She also noticed Paul was making an effort to listen attentively to what the tour guide was saying, something she greatly appreciated—he wasn’t into history as much as she was. At one point she turned and nudged Paul teasingly. “I didn’t think you’d be so supportive of democracy, Prince Starchild,” she whispered.

Paul rolled his eyes fondly at her. “Very funny,”

After touring Independence Hall, they stopped for lunch at a nearby café. Heather found herself actually eating most of what she ordered. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt… different today. But it was a good different—she felt better than she had in a long time. Paul clearly noticed, but wasn’t saying anything, instead occasionally glancing up at her with a small smile on his face. He had been doing that all day so far, as if he thought Heather didn’t notice.

After lunch, they decided to walk to the art museum. “Gene said you were going to challenge him to a race up the steps,” Paul commented as they neared the mentioned steps.

Heather smiled briefly. “Yeah, I was,”

Paul glanced around. “Well, he’s not here…”

They looked at each other. Paul grinned, and Heather, once she realized what he was thinking, started to grin back.

“Race you up the steps!” Paul shouted, then took off running. Heather ran after him, laughing. People walking up and down the steps looked oddly at the sight of them, two fully-grown adults racing up the steps with shopping bags in their hands and laughing like children.

It ended up being a tie, but neither of them were satisfied with that outcome. “I… totally won that,” Heather panted, breathless from running.

“Liar…” Paul shot back, also panting. “I… totally beat you.”

“You’re the liar, Paul Stanley,”

“I beg to differ, Heather McMann,”

They looked at each other, and started to laugh again. They collapsed onto a nearby bench, leaning against each other and laughing.

It felt good to laugh, Heather thought. Eric was always trying to make her laugh, sometimes joined by the rest of the guys, but most of the time she was just laughing so they would leave her alone. She knew they cared, but at the same time, she didn’t want them to worry too much about her, when they had the band to worry about. It felt good to laugh out loud without any thought to who was hearing.

“Can I ask you something?” Heather asked once their laughter died down.

“You just did,” Paul cracked, grinning.

Heather pushed his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

Paul laughed. “Okay, sorry. What is it?”

“… Did you really want to spend time with me today, or did you drag me out because you’re worried about me?”

Paul’s smile faded as he considered how to answer. “It’s… really both,” he said after a few moments. “I did want to spend time with you, because you’re my best friend. But I am also worried about you. And I know what you’re going to say,” he added when Heather opened her mouth, “but I can’t really help it. You’ve just been so… out of it since… well, you know. I just wanted you to be happier, even if it was for a little while.”

Heather thought about his words. He was right; she had been very out of it since What Happened. Even this morning, she hadn’t even wanted to get up, and her breakfast, even though fruit was her favorite, had tasted bland.

But after that… she had been having fun. She’d been smiling, and laughing, and joking around, like before everything that had happened. And her food had tasted better, perhaps because of her lightened mood. She had felt better today than any other day this past month.

Heather wrapped her arms around Paul, who had been waiting for her reply, and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

Paul hugged her back. “You’re welcome. I love you platonically.”

“I love you platonically too, Starchild.”

When they separated, Paul looked up at the large building. “Still want to go inside?”

Heather nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They stood up, and Paul offered her his arm, smiling jokingly. “Milady,”

Heather laughed and took his arm, then they walked up the steps to the museum entrance.

[iarinhacosta]

Hey can you please do a Kaymeron story about Kay findings out Cameron is the one in jail and they finally admit their feelings

I hope you and the other readers haven’t given up on me. I had this beginning in the head, but the end almost doesn’t come out. I still feel it is very simple, but anyway. I hope you like it!

It had been a while since she had come into a church for the last time. She was never a religious person, but he believed in God and liked the peace that this place brought him. In fact, when everything collapsed and she rarely could handle the ends, she ran to that quiet place, because something there calmed her down.

Now she was there because that was all she needed most: peace.

Everything had gone wrong on that day at work and in her life. She, who had always left the job so far from personal life, had mixed the two in one for Cameron’s sake and then saw all the two go wrong in front of her without being able to do anything.

In his mind, the way he talked about not believing her was still clear, as if it had just happened, and she still could not settle for it. She was such a person with faults even though she almost never failed. But this failure hurt more than the previous ones. The words tore at her heart as it still echoed in her mind and she no longer knew what to do to get rid of it when she entered the first church she found on the street.

It was late, the church close soon, but she still sat there replaying all the tragedy. His thoughts were cut off as his phone rang. She almost ignored it, but when she saw where it was from, she sighed in fear of what she was going to hear next and answered.

A few minutes later, she was face to face with him.

With him really, not with his brother pretending to be him.

“Why did you do that?” She asked, still incredulous, and he looked at her for the first time in the night.

There was a mixture of anger and sadness deep in his eyes.

“Why did I go back to prison?”

“You’re not Jonathan, Cameron, I know you and your brother do not have the same fingerprints and I know they needed yours when you went to the refectory today.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his beard. Both were equally lost by what had happened.

“Tell me what really happened, please.”

He swallowed hard and then looked at her.

“I deserve this.”

“But you need to tell what really happened.”

“If I tell you, you’re going to chase after my brother and he doesn’t deserve it, he needs his freedom now, I’ve imprisoned him for 30 years in my life.”

“We’re going after him anyway,” she said seriously. “Talk to me.”

In the next few minutes he explained that he had gone to visit Johnny with the intention of running away and he then said that he didn’t want to run away with him, struck him and he then woke up in Johnny’s clothes.

“I even left without saying goodbye to anyone. I didn’t want to hurt them.”

Kay looked at him strangely and thought, “Jesus, I don’t believe this happened.” and then asked.

“What time did you leave the warehouse?”

“About five o'clock, why?”

The flush growing on Kay’s face made Cam speak more directly. “What happened, Kay?”

“I’m sorry, I saw Jonathan, I talked to him thinking it was you and he didn’t deny it and then …”

She stopped before she could compromise any more.

“How could I have not differentiated you? I should have realized, I …” she said, beginning to martyrize and then Cam scolded her.

“I just don’t get confused with my brother because I’m aware that I am me,” he said, with as much humor as he could

That was Cameron Black, joke even in the worst of times.

“Okay, I’ll get you out of here,” she said getting up and before he could protest, she was already with two policemen and a warrant to release him.

__

As they were going out side by side, the two quietly processing everything that had happened in those last few hours, Kay turned to Cam.

“Do you want a ride, or …?”

“Why I wouldn’t want to?,” he asked confused.

When they got into her car, she was driving home. Even if they had not said anything, even if he wanted to go to a hotel, she would want to make sure nothing happened to him. He had just been betrayed by his brother, whom the two of them had donated most of the last few months trying to save, so his warehouse was compromised.

“You still have reason to be angry with me, but if you want you can stay in my house.”

“I have, but because of the FBI, I know you would never promise me anything if you couldn’t keep it up.”

“Unfortunately.” She agreed as she stared at him.

__

When they arrived at her house, neither of them had much appetite, but the belly snoring denounced them. Kay arranged some microwave food and then they ate in silence. When they had finished, they were left alone with their distant thoughts.

Kay stared at Cameron and then began to speak.

“I should have realized it was not you, Cam.” She began. “You would never have treated me that way, even in anger.”

He looked at her in alarm.

“What did Jonathan do to you?”

“Nothing,” she said, not wanting to make him feel even worse.

Part of her was relieved that it was not him. He was still there. Now they had new challenges, but who knows could they go through them together? She knew that his beliefs in her promises should be void, but she had a new chance to prove to him that she would still try.

He shook his head.

“My brother hurt me, I’m sure he said something to hurt you. ”

She looked at him earnestly and sighed, and out of the air all the lack of courage that was still inside her.

“I asked him …”, she started and looked at him blushing, “ I said I didn’t want to let it all end like this. He said there were no more promises between us, that you … he did not believe me any more. ”

Cam was silent for a few seconds, until he lifted her and looked her in the eye.

“I don’t believe in the FBI, maybe I still believe you. I know your heart, Kay. I know that unfortunately these things don’t depend on you alone. And you know that I would probably choose to stay if everything went well, you wouldn’t even have to ask. ”, He finished with humor, which left Kay red, remembering what she had said to Johnny.

Cameron noticed and moved closer to Kay, pulling her gaze to him.

“You didn’t just say that to Jonathan,” he said, and she was surprised to see he realized she was hiding something. He could read her so well.

“I …” she started and then her voice broke. Why was it so hard to say this now, knowing it was him and what he was willing to hear.

“I had told you that I would not stop you if you wanted to help your brother run away because …” she began, and received a corner smile from his mouth “I did not want to stop you from being happy, but I did not want to either just be an FBI agent to you. ”

The next few seconds were pure shock to the two when their lips met each other. A bittersweet taste on account of all the defeats of the day, but still a good thing.

“You were never just an FBI agent to me, Kay Daniels,” he replied after they pulled away and kissed her forehead.

When he looked into her eyes, she knew that everything in her life was still very messy, but that they could sort everything out together or build a new life. The important thing was that they would be side by side, and for now, only that really mattered.

[veneataur]

This one does have some descriptions of the aftermath of violence. It’s not bad and contained to one area but I just thought I’d put up a warning.

Prompt: Surrender

Fandom: BBC’s The Musketeers

Title: A Long Walk

He is more than cold. The last newspaper he saw said it was November 11th but that was many days ago so it might not be November anymore. He notes the sunrise and sunset but not the passing of days. Time is endless and he spends more and more of it not present.

His domain is a set of pallets that he’s stacked with enough space for him to sit in, if his knees are pulled up to his chest. He sleeps this way, when he sleeps. The length of each wall has a nondescript hole he set up to keep an eye on who is coming. Most don’t bother the crazy young man living down the alley by St. Jude Catholic Church, which has been abandoned for years.

That’s not to say that some haven’t tried. Just last week a handful of teenagers ambushed him on his way back from the community soup kitchen. He fended them off but not before they got in some good hits that left him seeing double and made him lose the one meal he’d get for the day.  

He’s been here since it was warm, when the sun blazed overhead and he sat in the alleyway sure he was seconds from death. Now, he thinks he might freeze but not if this cough gets him first.

One day at the soup kitchen a group was handing out winter clothes. He knew not to fight the others for the better stuff and waited until the end. His jacket was donated, already worn with holes that had been repaired with duct tape. The gloves and cap were the same. The scarf was threadbare. But he didn’t complain.

Another day there were boots and socks. The latter of these were new. He managed to keep two pairs of the pack of six and had both on now.

He hasn’t gone to the soup kitchen in days. He hasn’t left his pallet box home in days. That was when the coughing grew worse. His sleep is sporadic. Yesterday he didn’t remember the sun setting and today he can’t remember its rise. But he is sure that he was awake as he feels no more rested than before.

His mind is filled with images of death and blood, the memories of trying to close bullet sized wounds in small bodies. Too many holes. He patches one and finds another. Then another. And then a final, shuddering breath. A prayer and he moves to the next. In the dark, he goes from body to body, ignoring his own painful wounds because in the panic, with the adrenalin coursing through, they don’t matter. And still, could they ever matter more than the bullet-riddled body of a child who’s just lost their first tooth?

He knows that he’s not left the alley, his small bit of home, but his mind tells him otherwise. As time has worn on he knows that he is losing more of reality. It disappears in the blink of an eye and he sees dying children. When he thinks he might have saved one he is back in the cold. That itself is enough to depress him but even more is that he knows he failed that child.

His head aches, pounds behind his eyes. His body is stiff and not just because he hasn’t moved from here in days. It aches, especially his chest with each violent cough. And he is hot. Suddenly, he is very hot and cannot sit here for one more moment. Everyone is dead and gone. He can’t save anymore, not even himself. So, he crawls out, hurriedly, his legs knocking into the pallet home. It tilts and shakes, then collapses with a cacophony that shatters the silence and kicks up dust and cold air. He winces at the noise and coughs in the dust and air.

Then, he has to go. Someone might be watching. Someone might still be out there, waiting to pick on the last survivor, to complete the mission.

He walks.

Out of the alley.

Out on the sidewalk.

He walks.

And on his walk he sheds his clothes, the cap is the first to go because it’s hot. He’s in the desert in the part of the day when the sun is at its apex and he is burning up. Feet or yards later, he doesn’t keep count, he just walks, the scarf is lost to the ground.

He walks but he does pause for traffic. He doesn’t for people though. They steer clear of him. He doesn’t notice their stares, their unashamed gawking and he doesn’t feel anything about their apathy at the sight of a homeless man walking, shedding his clothing in twenty-degree weather with a steady breeze that brings it down on average ten degrees.

He walks in the direction that he thinks will take him out of this desert, away from the bodies of dead children and teammates. It’s a tiring walk. When he pauses it’s to cough, loud hacking coughs that rake his throat raw and force him to bend over grasping for a cold brick wall with his now bare hands to steady him.

It doesn’t stop him though. He has to get out. He sheds his jacket and keeps going, braving the heat. Occasionally he trips in the sand. The first several times, he catches himself with his hands, landing on all fours. After a while, the sand becomes slick under his feet and he gets a face full of it that feels so delightful that thinks he might stay. But he forces himself slowly to his feet. And walks.

Then there is a door in front of him, an unfamiliar door. It has a wreath on it, interwoven with multi-colored lights. There are windows on either side that shine a bright, warm light.

He knocks. Without thought, his hand forms a fist and moves to knock, five short raps in a familiar rhythm.

A young boy pokes his head up from one of the windows. When he sees the small face, familiar and not, he scrambles back, tumbling down the porch step and onto his butt, air leaving his lungs.

Then the door opens and a man appears.

He gets to his feet quickly, panic rising. He coughs harshly and doesn’t stop for minutes it seems.

“What do you want,” the man asks. He’s familiar, dressed in jeans and a sweater, his feet haphazardly put in boots to step out on the porch.

The young man licks his dry, cracked lips with his equally thick, dry tongue.

“I…,” he croaks.

“Why did you come here?”

“I…,” he tries again. Around him things are changing. At one glance there is the desert, then winter. Nevertheless, he shivers and it rattles his teeth.

“Who are you?” The man takes a couple steps closer, looking at him with increasing curiosity. The young man takes a step back and when he nearly trips again, the older man reaches out a hand to catch him.

“Aramis,” the man says, confusion clear in his voice.

Aramis looks up in surprise and tries to pull away but the man keeps his grip.

“Aramis, stop. It’s me, it’s Jean Treville, your old ROTC instructor.” Treville grabs at Aramis with both of his hands, wrapping his arms around the young man. Aramis fights him, jabs boney, far too boney, elbows into his stomach to get away but Treville holds tight. He’s been looking for Aramis for months, since the young man’s sister called, crying because he’d disappeared during the night. He’d had his best men looking, researching when they were not busy with cases.

He won’t let go, no matter how much Aramis fights him.

“Aramis, please. Stop,” he pleads again.

Aramis responds in Pashto, a language Treville taught him. So, he switches languages, realizing that the young man is in the middle of a flashback. He repeats his mantra, reassuring Aramis that he is safe, that he can stop fighting, that he is there to take care of him.

As the young man’s energy dwindles, he collapses back into Treville. Treville sinks to the porch, ignoring the ice-cold concrete. He brings Aramis down before the young man’s legs leave him. Aramis is awkwardly heaped on the ground, face pressed against Treville’s chest. It’s cold. But then Aramis is out in this weather without a jacket or even a sweater, wearing too-worn jeans that can’t protect against anything more than a child’s whisper and a long-sleeved t-shirt that has been poorly duct taped to repair the holes. He is wet and cold, though his skin burns. The shivering is interrupted by rough coughs.

There is little left of the young man he once knew.

“Aramis,” he tries again. The young man has stopped fighting him and is simply fighting for each breath. “What happened? How did you get here?”

“D…dead,” Aramis says with a choked sob. “All… dead.”

“What? Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking for you since you left Maria’s.”

“Can’t go… back. Gone. Dead. Killed them… them all.”

Treville doesn’t know what happened but it’s clear that Aramis is in no condition right now to answer any questions. His best guess, based on the smell, dirtiness, unkempt beard, and long, greasy, knotted hair, is that he’s been living on the streets.

“What’s going on, Jean,” Sarah asks from the doorway.

“It’s Aramis. Do you remember him from my retirement ceremony?”

“How could I not? He was quite the charmer, without meaning to be. He caused such an uproar amongst the ladies and some of the men in his dress uniform,” Sarah says fondly.

“He’s been missing,” Treville says, looking down at Aramis.

“I know. You’ve been rather persistent in looking.”

There’s a pause.

“I can’t let him leave, Sarah.”

“I know,” she says without anger and then is gone.

“I’m going to take care of you, Aramis,” Treville says, holding the man tighter.

“No,” Aramis says, voice weak. “Don’ des…erve.”

“Yes, you do. You don’t see it now. You were always harder on yourself.”

“They’re dead,” Aramis says, voice louder. “They’re all dead,” he almost wails.

“We’ll sort it out later. Right now, let me help you.” Treville can’t take the anguish in Aramis’ voice. Whatever happened is weighing heavily on him.

“No.”

“Please, Aramis,” Treville pleads again, hoping that he can soon get through to the man.

“Here, let’s get this around him for now.” Sarah has a blanket in her hands. Treville reaches a hand out to help her put it around Aramis. “We need to get him inside,” she says quietly. “He can stay in the den.”

Treville nods.

“I’m going back in with Tim and Ben. Let me know when you need help.”

“Thanks,” Treville says, watching as she goes back inside. The door is left open, but she’s taken the kids away.

“Please, sir,… let me go,” Aramis says so quietly Treville nearly misses it.

“No. You’ve been let go enough. You’re stuck here with me and my family until you’re healthy, physically and mentally.”

“Not the… their… fault.” Aramis is coughing more.

“They were your friends, your teammates. They swore to watch your six and they didn’t. I will. I promise you that. I always have and always will.”

Treville thinks Aramis is going to speak again, hears the intake of breath, but then muted sobs. He holds the young man tighter to him, rocking him as he might a child, and telling him that he’ll be there to protect him, to help him, to support him.

How long this goes on, Treville isn’t sure. But when Aramis is finally spent and either asleep or passed out, he calls quietly for Sarah. They work to get the limp man to his feet, Sarah holding him until Treville can stand. He picks up Aramis easily, an arm under his knees and one behind his shoulders; the man has lost too much weight. Sarah locks up the door behind them, then leads the way to the den. She already has the couch set up, with sheets, a pillow, and some thick blankets.

“He can’t stay in those clothes,” she says.

Treville is hesitant to undress the man with him so unaware and clearly in a bad mental state but Sarah is right. In the process of getting him into dry clothes, clean clothes, he sees the bruises and bones showing. He sees the scars that weren’t there before. It can all be dealt with later, he decides. Right now, they must address the immediate concern.

“I’m going to sit with him tonight,” Treville says when they have Aramis settled on the couch, buried under blankets. There is no way the young man isn’t warm now. Sarah puts a thermometer in the young man’s mouth.

“He needs a doctor,” Sarah says.

“I know but not tonight. He’s dealt with enough.

“He has a fever.” She waits to check the thermometer. “102.6. It was probably worse before all of that time spent outside. And I’m sure he’s wheezing when he breathes.”

“Sarah, I know he needs a doctor, but I can’t inflict that on him now. If he gets worse during the night, I’ll take him to the ER.”

“No.” She walks around to face him. “You’ll wake me and then you’ll take him. This isn’t going to be easy. It’s not like when one of the kids when they get sick.”

“I know, Sarah,” Treville says, working to keep his voice calm.

“I just want you to be aware of what you’re getting into. I don’t know what’s happened to him but it’s clear that it was pretty bad.”

“What do you want me to do? Take him to a shelter?”

“No, of course not.” She sits on the coffee table next to where Treville sits. “He wouldn’t last there and we both know that. I just want you to know that he’s not going to be the same young man you knew and this is going to take time. It won’t be easy on you or him or us, for that matter.”

Treville nods. If either of them were going to be familiar with what Aramis is going through it would be Sarah. She studied psychology in college. Once the kids are older, she has plans to continue her studies.

“I can’t leave him though.” He looks at her, meeting her gaze.

“I know and I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“Thank you,” Treville says. They sit for a while longer, watching Aramis, who, though still unconscious, coughs occasionally.

“Remember, wake me if he gets worse and you have to take him to the ER,” Sarah says from the doorway.

“I will.” Treville nods. He then sits back to watch the young man lay there. He is sure is night will be eventful as will the coming days but he is determined not to let Aramis leave, not to let him down, not to let him give up.

[illuminating-dragons]

Fresh Pickled Toads

Summary:  James Sirius is having trouble with a girl, though it's not quite the kind his mother was expecting.

Word Count: 2,142

              From the moment her children began to talk, Ginny marveled at her childhood arrogance. How had she ever thought she was good at lying?

               Molly Weasley might have had over double the amount of children that Ginny had, but she always had an ear to the ground. When James began fussing at three, Molly correctly determined that he, like Ron, was afraid of the dark. Ginny was ready when Albus started asking for water at night; like her, he didn’t like missing the fun of the grownups. And she blushed when Molly told Lily that she needed to take better care of her brother’s brooms when she snuck them out.

               “Did you always know?” Ginny demanded.

               “Of course,” her mother said with a smile. “I know more about my children then I let on. You will too.”

               And Ginny did learn; so did Harry, but he was different. Harry was very good at knowing how to cheer the children up and make them feel better. She could tell when her kids were lying, and more often than not, she knew why. They were a good team.

               Which was why she was having a hard time keeping a straight face right now.

               Harry and the kids had come home for Christmas, and when Ginny met them at the train she saw James, blushing to the roots of his hair, saying goodbye to Abby Wood. She was a year younger than James, still in sixth year, but she leaned close, twirling her hair. James dodged a kiss on the cheek, but he accepted a hug, face still red. Ginny caught Harry’s eye, and he winked before he kissed her.

               Like always, they all went out to a Muggle Italian restaurant to celebrate. Albus was bubbling about his latest project with Rose and Scorp (which involved too much going into the Forbidden Forest for Ginny’s liking, but Firenze would help guide them), and Lily made them all laugh with her impressions of the teachers. James laughed at all the right parts, but Ginny could tell her boy was distracted.

               “Something on your mind, James?” Harry asked over dessert. His eyes twinkled. “Or maybe someone?”

               James blushed as Lily snickered. “Aaabbyyyy,” she cooed.

               “Shut up,” James hissed.

               “Who’s Abby?” Ginny asked, feigning innocence. “Is it Abby Jones?”

               Abby Jones was their sixty year old neighbour.

               “No!” James snapped. He attacked his gelato, stabbing the spoon in over and over again without actually picking anything up.

               “It’s Abby Wood,” Albus informed them. “She’s Oliver Wood’s daughter, remember Mum? We met them a couple of years ago at the World Cup, remember—ow!”

               James had clearly kicked his brother.

               “Well, it’s nice you’ve made a new friend, James,” Ginny said quickly. Time to change the subject. “Speaking of friends, has everyone bought all their gifts? We’ll go tomorrow if not…”

               The distraction worked, and Lily started listing off the people she still needed to finish gifts for. As her brothers chimed in with help, Ginny looked to Harry. Marriage had taught her new skills too, and silent communication with her husband was the most valuable.

               Me or you? Harry said.

               James was upset, and he did need cheering up, but there was something in the set of his shoulders that troubled Ginny. She recognized the look; hopelessness of the heart.

               I should go first, she replied.

               Harry nodded, and called for the bill.

               The restaurant wasn’t far from home, and the five of them started walking together. About two blocks away, however, Harry gave a start.

               “Li-lu, you said you wanted to get a Pigmy puff for cousin Lou, right?”

               “Yeah, they want one.”

               “Why don’t we go now? George owled me today to say they’d be open late the next couple of days.”

               “Can I come too?” Albus asked eagerly. “I need…supplies.”

               Harry rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. James?”

               “I’m alright,” James said. “I’m actually a bit tired.”

               “I’ll come home with you,” Ginny said. “I’ve got a bit of a headache.” She took James’ arm and they walked down the street, glancing over her shoulder just once to see Harry, Al and Lily safely cross the road towards Diagon Alley.

               James was unnaturally quiet as they walked home. Really worried now, Ginny drank a quick draught for her headache—long day of writing—and prepared James’ favourite tea, a delicate orange tea with no caffeine. Kreacher watched worriedly. “Is everything alright, Mistress?”

               Ginny smiled. “I think James has a heartache,” she said honestly. “I’m hoping I can help. Are you going to the concert tonight?”

               Thanks to Hermione’s efforts, more house-elfs were given free time. Some of them, Winky included, had taken up music, and gave concerts to raise clothes donations for forced workers. Several would sneak into homes and place them strategically, ready for the bad master to make a mistake. They were usually socks.

               Dobby’s legacy was stronger than ever.

               Kreacher nodded. “It will be wonderful,” he said.

               “Enjoy yourself,” Ginny said. “Harry and I are planning on attending the next one.”

               “Winky will be delighted to see you, Mistress.”

               Ginny took the tea and went upstairs. James was sprawled on the sofa, nose buried in a book.

               “Tea?” Ginny asked.

               James put a hand up for the mug, but Ginny held it out of his reach. “Sit up, darling.”

               James groaned, but did as she said. “Ta, Mum.”

               Ginny sat down next to him. “You’re not reading for school, are you? You’ve only just gone on holiday.”                “No, it’s a novel, a Muggle one. Abby leant it to me…” her son’s voice trailed off, and Ginny saw him blushing.

               “Can I help, James?” she asked gently.

               James put the book down and closed his eyes. “I don’t think so, Mum. But thanks.”

               “Why don’t you give me a try, hm?” Ginny patted his knee. “You’ve been upset since you got home.”

               James still had his eyes closed. “Mum…you’re supposed to want to kiss people you like, right?”

               “Depends on how you like them,” Ginny answered, trying to make a joke. “I certainly don’t kiss your uncles.”

               James sighed. “I mean like you and Dad.”

               “I…well, I suppose, yes.” Ginny hadn’t really thought about it. “But you don’t have to like kissing girls, remember.”

               “I know that, Mum. With Lils and Al, how could I not?”

               “Then what is your question, love? I don’t think I understand.”

               James pressed his hands together. “I like Abby Wood.”

               “Okay…”

               “But I don’t want to kiss her.”

               “Okay. Do you like her as a friend?”

               “No, it’s not that.” James opened his eyes. “I think that she’s lovely and I sort of get nervous when she’s around, but I don’t want to kiss her. Or…anything else.”

               “Ah.” Ginny thought about it. “Maybe you just haven’t…I don’t want to push, James, but…”

               “I’ve had sex, Mum.”

               His bluntness shocked Ginny more than the revelation. “When?” she asked sharply.

               “Dad knew, Mum. I asked him not to tell you because nothing good came out of it.”

               Ginny was struck by a horrible thought. “You weren’t…weren’t forced, were you?”

               “No,” James said firmly. “No, I wanted to try. It was last year.”

               Last year… “So was it with Jenny Marks?”

               James was blushing. “That was why we broke up. She was really keen on it, and I wasn’t.”

               Ginny took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry, sweet.”

               “It’s not her fault. We wanted different things.”

               There was more there, and Ginny wanted to press the point, but it was better to address the larger problem. “James,” she considered slowly, “have you considered that you might be asexual?”

               James eyes went wide. “There’s a—a word?”

               Ginny felt a lump in her throat. “Yes,” she answered. “Your Uncle Charlie is asexual. He found out about it a few years ago. I thought he told you all.”

               James chewed his lip. “I don’t think so. He told us that he wasn’t ever getting married…is that why?”

               “No, that was a separate thing. Charlie’s married to his work, but there are lots of people who are just as dedicated who find time for sex. He was quite cheerful about understanding why he didn’t want that either.”

               “So I’m not…ill, then?”

               “I don’t think so,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “I think it’s just something that’s how you like people. Look at Lily; she’s interested in everyone.”

               “And for me it’s no one.” James looked a bit more cheerful. “I thought I might be sick.”

               “If you want to go and see Hannah, or someone else, and find out more about it, you can. But no, Jamie, I don’t think you’re ill.”

               “It didn’t feel like I was,” James confessed. “I don’t really mind not being interested. Except…” the gloom came back into his face.

               “Except with Abby?”

               James nodded. “I’ve always liked flirting, and even dates, but she’s different. She’s more important than that, and I want to be with her. But I can’t give her what she wants.”

               “How do you know that?”

               “She tried to kiss me twice!”

               “So…” Ginny tapped her knee. “What do you want?”

               “I want to read books with her and play football and listen to her play music and talk when we can’t sleep.” James flushed. “And go on dates and write her stories…and maybe kissing would be okay sometimes. Just not, you know, snogging.”

               Ginny ran a hand through his hair. “That sounds lovely, sweet.”

               “So why can’t I have that?” James asked miserably.

               “Who says you can’t? Have you spoken to Abby?”

               James looked away.

               “You’re worried if you do she’ll say she wants more, and you’re worried you might compromise yourself.”

               “I’m worried that I can’t be enough for her!”

               Ginny tilted his chin so their eyes met. “James Sirius Potter, you listen to me. You’re enough for anyone, okay? You don’t have to be someone you’re not for someone you love.” She’d learned that lesson long ago.

               “Grandfather did.”

               “Your namesake changed his behavior for your grandmother,” Ginny corrected. “As far as anyone ever told your dad, he was the same as a man as he was when he was a boy. And people do mature on their own, not just because they like someone. He might have done both. Unfortunately we don’t know.”  

               “So am I mature enough to know this is what I am?”

               “Does the word make sense to you?”

               “Yes,” James said immediately. “It makes a lot of things…make sense.”

               “Then that’s what you are. If things change, they change. But Jamie, remember this. Whether that changes or not, we will all love you and we’re not going to judge you. I don’t totally understand how you feel, but you don’t understand how I feel either. So we’ll muddle through, okay?”

               James sat up and hugged her, clinging the way he used to when he was small. “Love you, Mum.”

               “Love you too, my darling,” Ginny whispered. When she pulled away, she smiled at him. “Why don’t you write to Uncle Charlie if you have any questions? He won’t be back until after Christmas, so your owl will catch him.”

****

               James didn’t write for the first two weeks of school. Harry was worried too, and each night when he came home they discussed the silence (James had been dodging his dad).

               Then, finally, Harry came home grinning ear to ear and held out a photo.

               It was James and Abby, hand in hand. James was wearing a scarf striped with purple, black, gray and white. In the picture Abby put her head on James’ shoulder.

               “She made it for him,” Harry explained. “But she ran out of yarn over break and had to finish it this week.”

               Ginny blinked away her tears. “So she…”

               “She knew,” Harry confirmed. “And she…it was quite a scene, actually. Burst into the Great Hall, said she didn’t give a toss if he didn’t want to kiss her, and hugged him.”

               Ginny smiled. “You know, that sounds a bit…familiar.”

               Harry put his arm around her. “I know what you mean. You know…with all of our kids being the way we are, and the others…”            

               “Yes?”

               “Maybe we should see about getting more information into schooling. You know, teaching kids about different ways of loving. I know we never learned that part.”

               “We didn’t learn anything at school about this.”

               “You were an excellent teacher,” Harry whispered in her ear.

               Ginny blushed. “I think that’s a good idea, honestly. You should bring it up at the next staff meeting.”

               Harry nodded. “You know…I might need another lesson.”

               Ginny put her arms around the neck of a man she’d taught to see he was worthy of her love. Always had been. “You know, I do have some free time for tutoring.”  

Notes:

[skruffie]

Back in December, I wrote a post on facebook to try to reflect everything that I do at my job, and I’m reposting it here with some current updates because I still think about this sometimes. Putting it under a cut for length. I’m including a few edits to reflect changes that happened between when I first wrote it and now.

I was joking how if I wanted to update my resume to reflect everything I actually do at work, I would need a whole separate page just for Target. Tonight (Dec 9th 2016), I sat down and actually made an extensive list of everything that I do just to see how much it actually is, and this is what I came up with. Obligatory disclaimer: opinions are my own, yadda yadda. Don't necessarily mistake this post for complaining. Obviously it's not always a fun job, but there are a lot of aspects to these things that I enjoy doing.

DAILY TASKS Refunds: use receipt, use debit or credit card, gift card lookup, registry lookup, (rarely) check lookup, no-receipt returns with photo ID. Ranges from just a couple seconds to several minutes depending on how many items, if it's a same day return, if receipt lookup is working correctly, if it's a legit return (I lost count of how many times I've had to explain and re-explain to people committing return fraud what our return policy is, why they don't get cash back, etc).

Fraudulent refunds: Good fucking god. Basically almost the same as above except you see the same patterns of merchandise over and over, and you can never anticipate how they’ll react if the computer rejects their ID.

Exchanges: One of the easiest tasks, unless a different brand/price point is selected for exchange.

Backup cashier: Guests often sent to the desk when front lanes are occupied. Ranges between just a minute to several long transactions due to amount of items and the finite amount of desk space. Only one bag set per register, and one register doesn't even have bags. See also: guests asking if they could be rung up at the desk, or TM offering to ring guest up if things are slow.

Defectives: Process and sort defectives correctly. This regularly involves chemical items, broken glass, leaking food items, dumping alcohol (21+ only), getting everything bagged/repackaged/taped together enough and sorted into correct bins for shipment. Inspecting food merchandise to see if it's able to be donated. Bagging and sealing all chemical products. Applying labels to everything. Sorting everything onto the correct pallets at the end of the shift: defective salvage on one, CRC (usually high-end electronics, baby formula, certain clothing brands) sorted onto another. The CRC list must be checkmarked to make sure every item on the list is present and accounted for. Sort all the defective vendor items into their correct locations so vendors could bring them back. Putting defective merchandise on the pallets requires an LOD to come unlock the pallets in the first place, which pulls them from their own large task list.

Equipment tracking: keep equipment cabinet locked, unlock it/hand over keys for TMs needing walkie talkies and other things, make sure all equipment is signed out and signed back in, double-check to make sure everything is put on chargers correctly so no batteries run low, retrieve keys from the keybox for TMs April 2017: We kind of stopped doing this and the desk keys broke a while back. Replacements still haven’t arrived. We have to call the boss now to get the keybox open.

Sorting: putting out of area items back in the correct carts bins so sales floor TMs could retrieve it later, create overflow carts when the actual ones become too full, inform sales floor when carts are full, sort reshop carts from front lanes and from sales floor TMs who are about to hit compliance or go clock out, gathering all the crap that's left in reshop carts that shouldn't be there and putting it somewhere--fixtures (that belong all the way in the back, in the fixture room and not at the service desk), old sale signs (trash), actual trash, water bottles/cups, essentially stuff that should be done by the TM that brought it up in the first place but don't (2017: Some changes to this process occurred and it was made much worse than it was)

Correcting common mistakes: price challenges, price adjustments, missed cartwheel (either void the payment and apply cartwheel all at once, or manually enter it in one by one as price adjustments), missed gift receipts including those from gift registries

Guest assistance: Looking items up, giving directions through the store, calling other stores to check on inventory of items, answering questions, listening to complaints--this one ranges from sincere, actual concerns to the bizarre ("This place was a lot better off when it was just an empty lot for the plant farm!" "...Well okay sir, I guess that's that then."), more intensive emotional labor such as dealing with hostile guests, de-escalating situations so guests don't get angrier, keeping eyes on suspicious guests, working with AP when something fishy is happening, teaching guests how to use the motorized carts, signing guests up for redcards, helping guests call the redcard hotline when something's wrong with their card, calling target.com when they fuck something up with a guest's order (happens way more often than you think, and in more interesting and creative ways each time!!), honestly there is probably even more but that's what I got just off the top of my head

Communication: calling TMs on sales floor to find items, bring items, backup calls (if they are guest service trained), describing items, basically any kind of communication skill could be listed here

Order pickup: find guests' order by last name on the order list. Find guest's order by middle name on the list if their last name is not present. Look under "G" for "guest" if their name isn't on the list at all. Find order by order number if their name is not on the list. Find item in hold location (lately, like this holiday season, someone has been scanning items into one hold location and putting it in an entirely different one, so that adds to the fun!) and retrieve it or call for someone to retrieve it if it's in the back, process payment, curse the gods when the guest wants to return it that same day because the receipt information doesn't update for 24 hours after the order processes... APRIL 2017: We now have to keep the order sticker and put it in our brand new log book, including the date and time at which the payment for the order was processed, because other stores keep forgetting to train their GSTMs to push the fucking payment button.

Redcard: "And are you saving 5% with your Target Redcard? Do you want to sign up? It's 5% off nearly everything in the store and at target.com, plus free standard shipping year round and an extra 30 days on your returns. Credit or debit? Do you have a check? Do you know your account number and routing number? Gross annual income means what you make yearly" and so forth. plus, take payments for credit redcards, tell people we can't look up their credit balances, etc

APRIL 2017Sales report: Pull up how much we are making per hour in sales, compare it to the projection in what we should be making in sales, and announce it every single hour on the walkie so the LOD knows. Fake some enthusiasm for the redcard if you can.

APRIL 2017 Greeting guests: The latest direction that corporation wants to take the service desk in is creating a “hotel lobby” experience for guests when they enter the store. What this means is that they took away the method we used for processing reshop to make the desk area more sterile, and service desk TMs are expected to stand at the front of the store with the weekly ad and greet guests as soon as they walk in to try to upsell the sales, redcard, cartwheel, etc. This was implemented probably a couple months ago and I tried to do it once. It’s literally the most useless idea I’ve ever heard, because actual hotel lobby employees don’t harass you as soon as you come inside, and also because I could instead be doing one of the million other things on this list.

NEAR-DAILY/REGULARLY EXPECTED TASKS/THINGS THAT SHOULD BE DAILY Paid and left merchandise: document date+location, log it in the paid and left log including date/time/location/item description/amount that items ring up as. Defect out perishable food items. Ring out paid and left total to guests who bring receipt back for lost items.

Lost and found: log valuable items and money in lost and found log. Keep track of lost items (valuables in the locked drawer, common articles in the bin)

Bullseye's Playground: sort reshop for BP, put it away in either the correct spot or in the same price point with similar items. If it's especially slow, zone it and make it look pretty. This task becomes impossible to finish during the holiday season.

RFID: Retag clothes and domestics items that are missing barcodes and encode with RFID labels. This involves one mydevice, rolls of the correct labels (stick A is for domestics, sticker B is for clothes, and sticker C is if either label won't fit on the product tag), and one Zebra scanner. Turn bluetooth on, try to get the mydevice and zebra to read each other, turn all equipment back off and on again until bluetooth works, scan UPC, scan RFID sticker, apply sticker. If RFID sticker doesn't encode, it's gotta be tossed. These rolls are about $250 a roll and once I went through six stickers in a row before I got one to finally scan correctly. It's a gamble, but this can be done quickly if all the equipment is working correctly.

Phones: be the phone operator for a few minutes! Answer the same questions over and over, transfer calls to the right department, park calls on the hold line (for some reason I often have calls drop entirely when I try to park from the guest service phone?), do all this while trying to do any number of the previous tasks above. Multitasking! Don't you wish you had more than two arms? First time I was phone operator while the fitting room was on break was with absolutely zero training on how to ues the phone, transfer calls, all that good stuff, and I had a minor emotional breakdown when the phone wouldn't stop ringing and my line was stretching like four+ guests back, and nobody was responding to my backup calls. Those were the days.

SEMI-REGULAR TASKS Wrapping the defective pallets: Wrap and store the defective pallet when it's full. Also a gamble depending on how much room there is back at the receiving desk. Pallet is wrapped by hand with a giant roll of plastic wrap, not one of those fancy automatic machines! Easier task for normal-sized people,  but a bit time-consuming for tiny people like me who are not very physically strong and also terrible at maneuvering a big heavy pallet around on a pallet jack. It's gotten a bit easier with time though.

Gift registry: Helping people sign up for registries, helping people find registries, troubleshooting when registry ipads crash, explainig how the scanner works

Training receipts: When AP makes a recovery on items that were probably about to be stolen and they need a total amount of the value of the items. Putting the register in training mode requires GSA-level or higher TMs to change the register mode. Sorting all the reshop once training receipts are done.

Repackage: Refold blankets, curtains, and other items to make it look as nice as possible and/or to fit them back into the original packaging. Repacking non-defective items that have come loose from packaging. Discounting items if the repackage isn't as good as it could be but not bad enough to be defected out. Could be more difficult than it sounds due to lack of proper space to refold larger items and/or if the items don't have creased fold lines to make it easier.

Kodak: Fuck this machine, seriously. Keep Kodak photo printing machine in order, even though it was made in 2006 (IT HAS A FLOPPY DISK DRIVE, I’M NOT EVEN FUCKING JOKING) and is horrendously outdated and keeps thinking it's out of ink ribbon when it isn't. Replace ink, replace paper (there are two printers inside, and they both use slightly different-sized ink rolls and paper rolls, so this also requires keeping track of the boxes of rolls and ink to make sure you've got the right sizes). Previously: be on the phone with Kodak for ages and crawl around on top of/behind the machine to try to unplug cords and read tiny serial numbers out for the hapless Kodak representative that's just trying to help. APRIL 2017: it’s been working for the last few weeks, so fingers crossed it can hang in there a bit longer.

Saturdays: Take down the old sales ad and replace it with the new one. Menial easy, and sometimes shuffled off to the sunday opener if saturday's closer runs out of time.

Overhead announcements: paging guests, paging guests when they leave their car lights on, closing announcements (closing shifts only)

Ship-to-store: UPS dropping packages off at the service desk means those ship-to-store items are processed by guest service, not by backroom TMs. You will need a PDA! Open right app, scan packing slip, scan item, scan location barcode, put in location, repeat until all items from the order are processed, apply order labels to items if they print out*, close out receipt

Troubleshooting: fix label printers when they stop printing, try to answer calls about target.com when it stops working, teach other TMs how to do tasks like where the Sort Stuff button is, how to print labels, how to defect, etc

EMOTIONAL LABOR Reemphasizing this one because it's an understated and taxing task to undertake. Listen to guest complaints and comments, de-escalate guest anger, often become target for guest anger, have policy requirements and changes happen regularly to make things flexible for each guest, maintain a calm and pleasant demeanor the entire time, use of personal judgement and flexibility in each situation to make the outcome right every time, adjust to changes made by management (happens more often than you think!), watch suspicious guests, know that the fraudulent returns are probably going toward unsavory habits like drugs, knowing when merchandise is stolen and not being able to do anything about it, often being witness when guests are in the middle of a personal crisis in their lives.

April 2017: There is a lot that goes into this job. It’s hard. The way that the actual aspects of the job are easy because it’s just pushing buttons, but then things start to stack on top of one another. During Christmas, it’s a fucking nightmare. Last year, there were several days where I would have 9+ carts of unsorted merchandise crowded around my desk. The other TMs and I often stayed later to create more individual overflow carts to try to get the reshop organized, sometimes having 3 or 4 carts JUST for toys, 3 JUST for clothes, and so forth.

With the “hotel lobby” experience, we no longer have the default carts. Instead we have bins that hold about 1/4 of the reshop that carts can, and we condensed the bins down. Guests admire how clean it looks, and all I can think about how is how impossible this system will work when it gets past spring and summer. It’s just slow enough now for it to be okay but it is not a sustainable system for the holidays, no matter how many new people they hire.

[ladystylestores]

Project Ideas Around the House (for When You’re Not Feeling Productive at All) • The Blonde Abroad

I’ll be the first to admit that productivity hasn’t been 100% lately—and I’m guessing I’m not the only one. While there are a few tips I employ to boost my productivity, there are some days where I just…can’t.

You know the feeling?

While it’s pretty easy to veg out on the couch in front of the TV or continue scrolling for Instagram, I can’t stand that *guilty* feeling of wasting time. While I realize this is self-imposed and sometimes you need to give yourself grace, there are other times where I need to mentally check out, yet I still want to do something productive-ish.

And in an effort to cut out any extra work for you, I’ve rounded up a list of projects you can tackle at home. For me, these are projects that have long sat on the backburner or are the things that I always mean to do and never get around to.

Here are project ideas around the house for when you’re not feeling productive at all!

Clean Out and Organize

Take this time to get into home projects that you’ve been putting off (such as cleaning your closet, putting together things you want to donate, organizing the pantry, etc.).

Cleaning is extremely therapeutic so put on that inspiring podcast and get to it!

Sell Your Used Goods

After you’ve sorted through your closet, if you’ve got items that are in good condition and want to try your hand at selling them—look to Poshmark and Thread Up!

If you have “like new” or “gently used clothes” but have been holding onto them because they’re worth more than $.50 at a garage sale, check out Poshmark, a free online platform for buying and selling clothes. Poshmark takes a small commission on the sale, but sends you a prepaid shipping label and packaging so all you need to do is sell, then drop it in the mail!

Thread Up is really cool as they’ll provide you with a large bag that you can ship all your items—they’ll go through the pieces, professionally photograph them, and you’ll get a portion of the sale.

Let Go of the Clutter

While this ties in to clean out and organize, do some digging—what haven’t you cleaned out in a while?

Are there old boxes under the bed? That random “junk” drawer? Does your bookshelf need to be organized and are there books on there you haven’t read or would like to share with a friend?

Learn How to Make a New Meal

I’ve shared tons of recipes from around the world on TBA recently and now is a great time to learn how to make a new dish!

  Digital Organization

This one is a huge necessity for me and I’ve learned my lesson in the past when I thought I lost all of my photos—my laptop crashed and I spent the entire weekend working to recover photos from so many trips.

So take a lesson from me and stay on top of your digital organization!

Back up photos on the Cloud

Organize digital photos into folders and copy them to a hard drive

Clean up your computer desktop

Delete all the junk emails and zero out your inbox

Productive DIYS

Once I started traveling and blogging, creating NEW things and capturing NEW photos, there never seemed to be enough time to go back and reflect, let alone craft. I sometimes take thousands of photos in a single day. Multiply that by 8 years of travel…phew! So the photos sit on hard drives while the postcards and ticket stubs sit in boxes waiting for a day when I’ll have the time to memorialize them in some way.

I decided to finally go through the archives and put the past three years of friends, family, and experiences in South Africa into a photobook.

As soon as I started going through photos, I couldn’t stop. I laughed, I cried, I relived some of the happiest times in my life. Creating this photobook was a journey on its own, and it already feels like one of my most valuable possessions.

Artifact Uprising made it SO easy to build and design my own photobook — the process helped me get over the hump of my creative block. And I am so impressed with the quality — it looks like a professional coffee table book that we can cherish forever!

Consider going back through your photos and making that album or just getting the prints you’ve always said you wanted! Plus you can use code ‘BLONDEABROAD15’ for 15% off photo books and more! 

Employ the Idea of Mise En Place

Have you heard of the phrase mise en place?

Make sure everything has a place to live; while the expression mise en place is typically used in a culinary kitchen, it literally means “everything in its place” and is a really good rule of thumb to keep things neat and tidy.

I’m a big fan of the label maker and giving everything a dedicated space!

Another thing you can do is either make a spice jar or spice rack and label everything!

Make a Lifestyle Change

Nothing makes you feel more productive than doing something good for your health, right? One of my favorite lifestyle changes—both for overall health, to reduce waste and plastic, and my environmental impact—is switching over to plant-based milks.

The switch is not as scary as you might think! Check out how I make plant-based milk at home for only 50 cents for all the details and recipes!

Plan Your Next  Travel Vacay

Not that you need permission, but this is the perfect excuse to spend some time perusing Pinterest and figuring out your future travels! Start saving some ideas and while you don’t need to book tickets or accommodations right this second, it definitely helps to have an itinerary in mind.

Build your dream itinerary!

What things would you add to this list to be productive-ish?

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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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