#i love you stl i love you so much i am so grateful for the activists in that city whose efforts and direct actions are ALWAYS overlooked

[hungerpunch]

timestamp: 11/6/23 @ 11am CST

in st. louis, missouri protesters have shut down a boeing factory today. employees have been told to not come in and that deliveries are being stopped for the day. [source and updates here]

#palestine #st. louis #missouri #signal boost #i love you stl i love you so much i am so grateful for the activists in that city whose efforts and direct actions are ALWAYS overlooked #boeing

[goldeneyedgirl]

I love your writing so much, thank you for everything Jalice you created with your brilliant mind😭

I have heard mcu would be updated? And stl too? Omg. Lexie, I swear you uploads treated as a freaking Holiday miracle in my life. I legit to this day remember the absolute mind-altering evening I had, when I found STL and have read it for the first time. I re-read it yesterday, and its makes me e.m.o.t.i.o.n.a.l every time, fuck. Especially Jasper’s parts.

Also, I do realise its might seem like I am stalking your blog, but I am just obsessed with your view on Twilight and Jalice, I swear, I am not a psycho😂. Its also that, yours is the only tumblr blog I have a notification mode turned on.

Also, I would love to see the Dark & the Unknown, because what the fuck is with Alice? She IS alive, right? Like, I have a whole movie in my head, where opens her eyes and the Cullens are like, what the fuck is going on? And Jasper is just shocked, horrified but also relieved. And then the Cullens hear them fucking in Jasper’s study, and they are traumatised.😐😂 and Emmett is just: “bro, she is terrifying 😈 “ or something like that😀

Anyway, thank you for everything you have written so far, I ADORE your brain❤️

You are so damn sweet <3 Thank you so much for your support, you've left so many comments and tags and likes, it means so much to me. I'm just the weirdo with too many ideas and not enough time to get them all written.

Jar of Hearts and STL are the next two updates I have planned. Variable Stars is currently in pieces undergoing a complete rewrite of the next three chapters. The one-shots this month are my fantastically late Valentine's one-shot from Space-verse, and the February prompt for the 2023 Prompt List.

Shadow to Light being so popular is wild to me, and I am so grateful people are still following it. It was supposed to be a one-shot, then a two-shot, then a fic that was wrapped up in 6 chapters (I still remember exactly where it was when it changed for me to a Big Project), and now is one of the longest fics I've ever managed and one of the things I'm most proud of. Thank you so much for putting up with my slow updates.

I do have some amazing asks from you in my inbox, I just need the time to sit down and give them a good response that doesn't make me sound like a babbling fool (and there was one that I needed to hunt down a specific image that has become really hard to find, but I think I found it!)

2023 is The Dark And the Unknown's year, I can feel it. We're going to get our cryptid romance on. I don't want to spoil it, but Alice does freak out the entire family at one point, and Jasper is smitten. However, the pacing is messed up at the moment - which just means I have to add a bunch of scenes and make it longer - so I'm crossing my fingers that it will be this year's Halloween fic.

And again, thank you. Before I wrote for Jalice, I wrote for fandoms/pairings that didn't have a lot of interaction, so I never got to talk to people or have anyone read my stuff so it always amazing and exciting to see likes and reblogs and reviews and asks (that might be why I get overwhelmed - I'm absolutely not used it!)

#asks #to be tagged

[stevishabitat]

Inside a St. Louis Lesbian Speakeasy - Out in STL

Upon entering the sliding doors at my home-away-from-home, you’ll first notice the smell. The vetting process, when you’re verbally given directions to this clandestine spot and finally understand where you’re going, probably already filled you with apprehension and anticipation, and those feelings return now as you realize you’re breathing in the acrid air of your ancestors. You know you’re not on the right floor, but you don’t dare try to operate the ancient elevator, with its levers and contraptions you’ve only ever seen in black-and-white movies. So instead, you take the stairs, which were clearly built for smaller people from a different time. You feel claustrophobic as you make your way up them, carefully watching your feet as they navigate each abnormally distanced step. “Where are we going exactly, and how unsafe am I?” you think. Something all queer Americans are wondering right now, but for you, that question is much more tangible as a masked and robed woman leads you down winding halls that you’ll never be able to find your way out of without help.

You pass room after room, wondering what’s going on behind those doors. Finally, you’re brought before a door adorned with welcoming colors, and you know queer people are in there. A warm cinnamon-cake candle welcomes you into the small space. There’s vintage lesbian porn being projected on a wall, and Sylvester’s “I Need Somebody to Love Tonight” is playing on a sound system. You are in a lesbian speakeasy and dungeon. You are filled with excitement and confusion but also completely disoriented. Here, you can have a beer or glass of wine with like-minded folks, even set your glass down and look away, not having to worry about someone trying to spike your drink. Clothing is optional, though most will choose to stay clothed and get into deep conversations at the bar. It was next to impossible to open up and sustain spaces for LGBTQ people before these fascist Republicans started their latest attacks on us. It stands to reason that given the current climate our community would have underground and illegal watering holes and salons. And while it may seem immature to some to hold space for after-hours activities away from the prying eyes of Uncle Sam, I’m grateful for the folks who are risking much to hold and keep these spaces secret and sacred.

It will be in these dark rooms that multigenerational activists will make plans to get abortion pills across the border to Americans in trouble. It will be in these hallways where T and HRT will swap palms, eventually saving the lives of trans folks. It will be in these heavily vetted shared spaces where the new “Jane” groups will connect pregnant people with doctors willing to perform once-and-now-again illegal abortions to save their lives.

And it will be in my home-away-from-home where information on how to have safe queer sex, support sex workers and find health care for our community will be learned and shared. It will not be our fault if our identities are suddenly deemed illicit by the state. But let’s have a little bit of fun with it if they are. I cannot think of a better way to fight the rise of fascism than selling untaxed booze to queer folks congregating in shared spaces to make merry and plan treason. After all, our descent into fascism doesn’t have to be so god damned basic. Be gay, do crimes and have a good time while you do it. Out in STL took over the Riverfront Times for this month’s pride issue.

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 115: Tuesday April 25, 2023 - “Babies Mamas”

This post contributed by Audrie after hosting a pool party with her baby mamas:

I am so grateful for these women. Kate and Bre. They both are saved in my phone contacts with “Stella” and “Otis” attached respectfully. We all met about 18 or so months ago at the Birth-Center-Mom-Baby group. Stella was just a little sprout and Otis had to have been closing in on 7-9 months, William in 4-6 month range, and I just latched on to the positive energy of these two.

Out of all the women, and all the children, I knew Bre and Kate could be my tribe. It wasn’t more than a few words after hearing Kate & Stellz’s dad were from the STL, that I suggested beers at the brewery and invited a friendship that went beyond Friday’s at the Babymoon.

The rest is history.  We co-encountered and co-conquer all the variations of sleep regressions, teething tenuousnesses, food introductions, and developmental milestone markers along side one another while strolling the zoo, group texting or sneaking away for mamas-only-night at the comedy club.  

Then suddenly Bre and Tom were unexpectedly expecting a second baby and Kate and I didn’t hesitate to throw a warm welcome sprinkle-shower for baby E.

These women have been my go to for mom-talk, ladies nights, and just over all steadfast rocks to recenter on and cling to when the waters became too murky and rough to navigate solo.

These two were always on standby to hoist me back up when the slippery sloping edge that is new-motherhood got too steep to navigate alone.

I love them, and their babies. And we don’t all get together as often as we all would like, or connect as much as we all wish we could to let the kids bond, and the wine and whines flow. And yet, it’s been enough to not ever forget the value of this band of new mamas and the impertinent asset of having a few good women in your corner; walking a journey not exactly right along with you but somewhere…as if on a similar trail…within the same rough square mile of foreign landscapes and wild places…. A square mile made up of rock, and wash gullies, dehydrated shrubbery, and random wondering useless cows.

These women have been a lot like fellow desert hikers: picking their way from the tattered ends of the long dirt road that goes over the grand escalate staircase, and then diverges like the Nile’s Delta into the randomly-organized maze of trails that weave and wonder their way up to the backside of Lake Powell.  

We are all out here looking for the golden goose— that amber glazed sunrise donut reflecting off the red rock and glassy still water in Reflection Canyon.  We are all seeking that piece of peace.  Whether it’s in the wild or it’s in the wildness of the child, we are all set to conquer the peace.

In preparation for the journey, someone might have given you their compass, or their recollection of the way along that similar excursion that they hiked years ago… but until you are in it yourself, and realize we are all on a journey aimed at the same destination, but true north will point in different directions in the same compass for for each mama and child — we all have a yearning for the the prize of that award winning son-rise: a happy and healthy child, a thriving and not-crying and peacefully-sleeping-not-weeping-tiny-human that is not just the product of our cell building and milk rearing, but also our decision making and pathway picking though the neural-network map of endlessly possible passages to the sweet water’s edge.

This singular journey that pushes back and dances with the banks of insanity, also brings grounding and recenter in the small moments with the mamas who cross paths, who find their tribe on this solo journey; who take shelter under the same shade tree, together to breathe, to share, to reflect and to project and then to continue on again, in our slightly different directions and at different paces —yet all arrows aimed to arrive collected again. Down the trail. We all want the waters’ edge. The peace the love the beauty of a contended child, the warmth, the joy, the gratitude reflecting back in that baby’s smile.

We collected under a shade tree again today, Bre, Kate and I. And in the cooling waters of the Finca’s back yard, our hands stayed busy, while our hearts slowed down— for at least a few fleeting moments we rested our mama-souls. Leaning into one another, affirming, praising and recollect.  

It’s never enough, and it’s also always just enough time with these women, and our babies.

Song: Mazey Haze - Back to the Start 

Quote: "What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger." ~T.S. Eliot

[stlouisshutdown]

Nick Openlander -  Bar manager, Moonrise Hotel

I asked them and a few others to tell me a little from their point of view on Covid19 and how they are dealing with things, this is what they had to say...

Did  Covid19 affect your career? “yes” 

Is this Temporary?  “Yes”

Are you Looking for work or just riding this out? What are you doing in the downtime? “Currently riding it out, but that may change. In the meantime, I've been painting, reading, watching tv, exercising. The apartment’s never been cleaner!”

Before all of this, What was your outlook, expectations, and feelings about the year at the beginning of 2020? “Optimistic, and I still am. My expectations were to continue doing a job I love, be creative and spend time with family and friends. Obviously some of that has become more complicated with current events, but I do see this as temporary, while simultaneously realizing the gravity of the situation. People are sick, people are dying. Ultimately, what I can do right now is be compassionate and considerate of the wellbeing of others as well as myself. I try to keep in mind as well that whenever I experience hardship or loss, it's important to remember and be grateful for everything I still have.”

When / where did you hear about the coronavirus AND were you worried? “I first heard about it through news outlets in December, and I wasn't worried. From what I understood at the time, symptomatically it was similar to a cold or the flu, but more contagious yet having a fairly low mortality rate. It seemed so removed from me that I saw no reason for concern.” 

How did you feel about COVID-19 as it related to you and your wellbeing on March 1st? “My feelings have changed, it's definitely more personal. There's an added level of caution and awareness as soon as you walk outside. There's also sympathy for so many others who feel lonely and are distanced from so many aspects of their lives. This is so different because it's not just a recession or a terrorist attack, it's a public health crisis and so many more people are vulnerable. Everyone's life has been shaken up. I'm currently not working as well as most of my friends. So much of how I spend my free time, going out to restaurants, bars, concerts, have all been put on hold which coincides with being able to spend time with family and friends. Something as simple as visiting my mom isn't viable right now. All of that seems trivial though as hospitals are being overwhelmed. It will pass, but there's hardship along the way.."

How did you feel about COVID-19 as it related to you and your wellbeing when the city officially shut down? “Similar to the answer above, it hits so much closer. Hearing about our city, as well as so many others and even countries going into lockdown shows how serious the situation is and from I understand can/will worsen before it gets better.”

What are your Personal hopes/goals for when this is over? “They remain the same as they were at the beginning of the year. I'm eager to spend time with loved ones and get back to work. I also hope for myself, and for others, to be more present and aware of the people in my life. I hope we come out of this more sensitive and appreciative of our relationships and how much they enrich us. As far as society goes, I hope we can consider ways or elect candidates to improve/expand healthcare and create a climate that is more efficient and responsive to crises that may arise in the future.”

What do you think the new normal for you will be when this is all over? “I hope as far as the routine goes, my life will resume its previous state, I was pretty happy with where I was."  

What do you think will be the new normal for STL after this is over? “It will take time to recover, but ultimately I imagine things will more or less return to their original state, but perhaps, and hopefully, with an added level of kindness and charity towards others. Every challenge is an opportunity, this is a moment to reflect upon how much we value our relationships and what we can do for our friends, family, and community, and everything they do for us. Also, once everything is up and running and knowing this city, I'm expecting a perfect storm of mardi gras/Stanley cup/world series level of partying to continue FOR MONTHS.”

[knucklehedpinstriping]

Thank you so much to the team at @edwardsville_arts_center art fair and all the attendees for the support!! I am super grateful for the support and love! I am hoping to make it next year! Many Blessings! < < < < #Artist #painter #graffitiart #draw #paint #create #chicago #artist #losangeles #stlouis #edwardsville #Memphis #miami #STL #austintexas #edwardsvilleartscenter #ihaventdonemybestyetonlymybestsofar  #painter #pinstriper #graphicartist #create #lowbrowart #modernart #fineart #signpainter #businessart  #artistinstlouis #stlouispinstriping #knucklehedkustomart https://www.instagram.com/p/B3E_dSLgL5D/?igshid=1ruuha457oim5

#artist #painter #graffitiart #draw #paint #create #chicago #losangeles #stlouis #edwardsville #memphis #miami #stl #austintexas #edwardsvilleartscenter #ihaventdonemybestyetonlymybestsofar #pinstriper #graphicartist #lowbrowart #modernart #fineart #signpainter #businessart #artistinstlouis #stlouispinstriping #knucklehedkustomart

[thekingofthesquirrels]

The Markiplier Experience

Okay. Just got home from the St Louis You're Welcome show and I'm just.

Wow.

So, first of all, I had front row seats and VIP stuff. I got a t-shirt, poster, and buttons from the vendors (which we had early access to) and watching Mark perform his songs was amazing. He mentioned something striking a chord with him (unintentionally) whole answering a question at the end of this sesh and I let out a loud laugh. He kept talking for a second before pausing and looking over at my direction and going. "I see what you laughed at. Chord." (he strums a chord). (I love puns, especially unintentional ones).

(I noticed he did a lot with his eyes closed, but like, I feel. I can act and talk on stage just fine, but singing? Totally different. Much more vulnerable, in my opinion. So kudos to him for like wanting to perform and pushing through that fear.)

Then. The show.

I got to go on stage.

I got to do the dance bit. Mark competed against Tyler and each chose three people to be on their team and provide them with dance moves for said competition.

(if you were unaware, in the official Dance Competition rules. The bigger the bribe the better the chances of winning. And after your second wag warning, you get a spank)

So I got to chat with Wade, and like he was so nice and cool (and I was proud of myself for being normal. Honestly I was in shock the whole time, still kinda am).

They danced super well. Mark did the feet thing (which I may or may not have like shout suggested from the sidelines right as he went on for the second round). And ultimately Mark won. I got hugs from everyone (minus Ethan cause he was across the stage). And like. Just. (still shook). Also got a signed, Markiplier waterbottle. It's totally printed upside down on purpose lol.

The rest of the show was just, so good. Got to see someone get proposed to. Another friend of mine had her line read in one of their skits and another friend of mine caught Bob's hat. I made tons of friends (including the two fore mentioned)

Also. @crankgameplays GOT EVISCERATED IN SWITCH WIZARDS BATTLE. KILLED IN SECONDS. A TKO. WOW.

Just. This is my second time seeing the show and it was just as enjoyable, if not more. The first time I saw it was in Indianapolis. The best way to start my year and I just. I love these guys so much, and all they do. Keep being you everyone on the team, because you do it well.

If you have been debating on whether or not to see the show, this is your sign. Go to it. You won't regret it.

-The Squirrel King

(PS, if u have video of the dancing part of the STL show please hmu/send it to me. I'd be forever grateful)

#markiplier #markiplier's you're welcome tour #you're welcome tour #the markiplier experience #the king of the squirrels #crankgameplays #muyskerm #lordminion777 #apocolypto 12

[let-it-happyn]

june 4.21

Another peaceful morning and my last day off before a 3-day stretch and then I'm off for 6 days! (which just sent me into a quick distraction of what could I do with that time, hotel stay in stl for a night?) Before I think too hard about what I could do with the time next week I should consider what to do with the time I have right in front of me!

Time spent in the sun is time well spent so will definitely be laying out and reading or listening to podcasts for a few good hours of the day and would also like to go for a long walk which I may do after finishing up here.

There are other more serious tasks that need to and will be done today ! ... (clean kitchen, wash + put clothes away, call for hair appt, reach out to Branson crew for finalization)

I would like to use this summer to try and finish the sun room and landscaping/back yard to make it more enjoyable; why do we have these spaces if we cant fully appreciate them? The sunroom just needs the floors finished and as far as landscaping goes it is in desperate need of some TLC.

I just don't want to feel like I'm wasting my summer. I want to enjoy the outdoors and do more stuff. I think the hotel stay is a cute idea and making a day of going to stl. Some days I don't mind being a homebody but some days I just have too much stimulation to just sit inside on a nice day. With that being said I think I'll wrap up my post here and go for a walk. Til next time ~

Every challenge is an opportunity to awaken your spirit and grow from inside out. The challenges you face can be a catalyst for much needed change.

I am healing from the things that have harmed me. I am deserving of love, respect, and greatness. My life experiences have shaped me into the best version of myself. I am grateful for the path that I am on. I am learning every single day. I am unique and beautiful inside and out!

[kurlykayaker]

pandemic changes you

It’s funny the last time I made an entry on here - I was apprehensive about the change coming my way- navigating a new city in Illinois, starting my final clinical experience...leaving a lot of people, routine, and familiar places in Athens, Ohio.  I didn’t think that anything would keep me from returning there... Until, the most recent events of COVID-19.  At first, the hospital in January that I was at - staff would make mention of it, but nothing extravagant.  Then, by the end of February, all “immunocomprised and pregnant” students were advised to tell their school and clinical site coordinators.  The next step they took was limiting all PPE to therapists - and not students, which made sense.  THEN, all students’ clinicals were discontinued. For the next few days, time was frozen for me - almost physically and mentally.  Thoughts slowly circulated in my mind,... “Was I going to graduate in time - despite my clinical being canceled?” “Where would I go?” “Just, how *bad* is this virus?” “And good Lord, do I have the energy to pack my car?” My thoughts remained frozen in reality - while I slept enormous amounts of durations - and sipped on mixed margaritas at times. I didn’t want to face the music. I didn’t want to contemplate the reality.  I thought, “What could I REALLY do anyway?” As the next few days passed, I discovered why I couldn’t face the music, why I couldn’t answer my own questions, and - some questions were answered for me. I started to “respond” more healthfully by making to-do lists of things I wanted to accomplish over the uncertain amount of quarantine.   Within 2-3 days, I discovered I would indeed pass my clinical - and not need to make up any time.  I debated consistently between returning to Athens, OH and the offer my brother provided to live with him and his wife in St. Louis, MO. I wanted to go back to work at the local hospital in Athens - or Kroger, where I heard they were hiring.  “Work part time and study,” I told myself. My mother called me Saturday morning - I was still in bed, a bit of a stupor.  I didn’t want to face that fucking music.  Her tone grew more serious - she was playing the politician with me- and wanted me to understand her perspective; then, she cried- openly messfully cried - her own words pouring out as quick as her tears - making known her fears. She wanted me close - she wanted me near - in case something were to happen; but, she understood my desire to serve, to help, and be in my familiar zone.   We had crossed a bridge together - during that moment.  I saw the nature of her soil on her farmland - and she saw mine.  My stomach dropped - I dreaded the idea of never seeing my family again - especially my only biological parent alive, aka my mom. I also dreaded the idea of giving up my 120% degree of independence - having an apartment completely to myself - being able to do “whatever I want, whenever I wanted to do it” - pretty much. There WAS...the factor of feeling alone, but truth be told - I haven’t always felt super close to my family.  I have moments where I do, and I have moments where I don’t.  Some of my family continues to believe that our current president has the best interests of LGBTQ people in mind - as well as the general well being of country during this crisis (aka meaning our actual pulse, not the stock market). I’ve strayed from my point here...for instance, right now - it’s 2:10 am and I’m writing--about how I feel.  My room is far away enough right now - that I’m not waking my brother and his wife.  Yes, you’ve made it far enough to realize I ended up coming to STL.  It is a very weird feeling to have carved the kind of person you want to be in the most imperfect way - and to return to your native roots (be it physical or a presence of other people) and feel bewildered / as if you’re stagnant/backtracking. When my conversation ended with my mom, I had a flashback of the previous night - me in my bed, watching some dirty porn, and taking care of matters - completely comfortable in my bed - no need to worry about modesty, sound, etc. The feeling of being completely comfortable - in my skin - no need to worry about a knock at the door, an interruption, or being “seen.”  Something in my gut told me... I wouldn’t have a sacred moment like that for awhile... Little did I know, the packing would begin shortly.  I packed my whole apartment in less than 3-4 hours - most of it fitting into my small Toyota Corolla.  Graciously and thankfully, my brother sort of self-volunteered to drive his SUV the 3 hour trek, see my “place,” and help pack the rest (mostly food).  I returned my keys to the security staff at the hospital - in the ED entrance.  I couldn’t help but wish to be driving to a different ED entrance - in Ohio, the one I had worked at for nearly 7 years. I find myself sitting in a room - that is bigger than all the rooms I’ve previously had in the last 6 years in Athens, Ohio.  Well equipped with a Keurig coffee maker, microwave, and fridge.  Internet that puts my other connections to shame.  A brother and his wife who share meals with me, and provide quality conversation and interaction.  Two dogs that are too cute for their own good.  A suburban environment full of families and small dogs - and lots of white people. I’ve discovered the longest walking path - safe from cars - and I can make it last an hour if I walk slower (with the dogs).  My walks provide me with not only physical activity, and a change of scenery - but mental peace and sanity. I can only look at a screen or be in the same setting for so long.   The last time I lived in a suburban environment was high school. The last time I lived with my brother- was before I decided to return to school,    pre-transition, and I was very lost - depressed even.    Passively suicidal. Today, I gathered the dogs together for a long walk - my brother being on a     conference call.  The dogs anticipate the walk and are noisy.    One look - one shitty scornful look from my brother, and it’s all I need    to remember how I was always the “weird” kid growing up,       easily picked on. Moments, I prefer not to live again. Memories that are painful. A scar that is no longer keloid, and I’d prefer to keep it healed.   Returning to these moments only bring more pain. When my brother saw my apartment (that the hospital owns), he suggested taking pictures. “You’ll want to remember this place when you look back - years from now.”  My mother said a similar thing, “I can’t believe you lived there for so long (only 3 months?); you’re so resilient.”  I laugh.  I just laughed.  I think of all the rain storms I’ve endured in a boat, or while hiking.  I think of the great poops I’ve had in nature. The roots I’ve slept on - because I let my campers sleep on more comfortable ground. The apartment represented independence to me - despite its somewhat dreary appearance - and at an incredible ,affordable price.  I was grateful.  I enjoyed the living environment and setup; it fit great for me.  And, I was within walking distance to my internship. Reflecting, I know I have MUCH to be grateful for despite the nature of this post. I’m grateful to have my family so close to me.  I’m grateful that they care for me and love me.  I’m very aware and grateful that my oldest brother and his wife are willing to let me stay in their abode - until the pandemic calms down (praying and hoping); it is no small thing - especially as they both are working from home 5 days/week.  They too themselves are very independent -and don’t need help with a lot of tasks around the house.  Walking the dogs, they have told me is the biggest thing I can do to help. However, as positive aspects of social media have pointed out - we all will “grieve” some (or a lot) - grieve for our previous rituals, our ability to leave the home and go places as we desired, our ability to socialize physically...have gatherings.   We will grieve and experience growing pains of a “new normal” - which I’m still working into (day 11?). Most of my initial questions were answered, minus one. “How bad will this COVID-19 get?”      We don’t know - yet.  We must wait, be patient, and hopeful...and see. I’m friends with many healthcare workers who are active in the field now- and I see/read/hear A LOT.  While I think we could have been more prepared, I hope that our country can continue to respond, take the appropriate measures, - as we see at least a decline in rising numbers / or consistency with where we are. This “new normal” is such a balance- a balance, because all the things that *were once* important to you - you have to work through, you have to make a mental note of “damn, i miss x” - and allow yourself to feel that, and then not hold guilt/anger/a grudge in your heart.  And if you’re like me, and you’re an explorer of life (and love small details), this will take time.  This will be hard.  AND then, you have to get back on the teeter totter (balance analogy), and recognize that you’re here...you’re present, you’re alive, and hopefully, you are well - including your family members.   Balance- because our first world grieving of - “missing coffee shops” = x for me, but then also being SO grateful and humbled by still being alive - and able to experience each day. Apart of navigating the new normal includes - finding ways and methods to express what I’m feeling.  I’ve always been an emotional guy, but graduate school has “mellowed” my emotional side out because I’ve always had a mental focus or place to direct my energy.  Many of us thrive on structure in this western country; that structure can be so good and so healthy, and empowering - but not if you don’t allow yourself to grieve, and feel what you need to feel. So, I will continue to ask myself, “What are you feeling today?” / “Did I allow myself to feel today?” “What did I accomplish today?” “What did I do today - to allow myself to be human?”  (i.e. sleep in,     eat dessert, jerk off, binge watch Netflix, call a friend, etc.)

[bloghappilymarriedthings-blog]

Not a boring week...

So last week I said nothing really happened, wellllll this week made up for last week 😂🤣

 It was an eventful week. A painful week lol. But S/O to Sister Heise 🏆🌟 (mission doctor)

 I found out on Wednesday that I broke two of my toes on my right foot 😭😂 last Saturday I was getting into the shower and was super tired.. I didn't lift up my foot all the way over the bathtub and smashed my toes into the metal surrounding. But hey, I didn't even let out a scream 😏 We live in the inca house so I did not want to scare my companion 😂🤣 my companion told me to call Sister Heise but I didn't listen until I wobbled into my interview with President and they told me to call hahah. Yup, they are broken!

 A day later my eye started hurting, felt like I was getting a stye or something? I woke up on Saturday and it was HUGE! It was so painful hahahah. My companion told me "call Sister Heise.. call Sister Heise...." finally around 3PM I gave in and called. She sent us to the doctor and I was told I have Blepharitis 🙃 hoping the swelling goes down in the next couple of days 🤞

 We had interviews with our mission president on Wednesday and he told me straight up that I was leaving.. So transfer calls Saturday night were not a surprise haha. He also told me "you will be seeing a lot of the mission"... So I think I may be getting transferred a lot more haha.

 We had exchanges with the English STL's and I had to lead out our area all myself in spanish!! I was so nervous. The STL did not say one word the whole day so it was really a test for me haha! We had a dinner appointment and two other lessons. They went well but I am so grateful I have a native companion lol! Also, on exchanges we taught English class. No spanish speakers came but Guilherme came, he is from Brazil and speaks Portuguese! So I taught English class in spanish and learned Portuguese as well, that was really cool and fun 😂

For dinner we were served some type of Guatemalan chicken meal. I'm not sure what part of the chicken we ate but there was not much meat hahah I'm thinking either the foot or ? No se 😅 but now every time I eat chicken from the bone it plays over and over again in my head.. the whole chicken scene from two weeks ago.. "it is dying"

 So you all heard how excited we were to get permission to pass out candy on Halloween!!!! We got three bags of candy and sat by the door- no one came. None. Nada. Nadie.  

Halloween was sad haha. We were in at 6 and dressed for trick or treaters, opened the door, made cookies, had 3 bowls of candy full and.... nadie. Sad hahahaha but we laughed about it pretty good. Everyone here just goes to a church trunk or treat.

 Alex took us out to lunch to Waffle House on saturday and we invited him to fast with us on Sunday and told him how we fast. When we explained no food for 24 hours he was a little surprised and when we said no aqua he freaked "NO AQUA?!" It was so funny! But he did it!! Sunday morning he texted us and asked if he could brush his teeth (because it uses water 🤦‍♀️🤣) and around 3:30PM he texts us "can I eat now?" He is so funny! We are so excited for his progress.

 Jose Roca got baptized!! It was someone we found last transfer (When I was with Hna Figueroa and Hna Diaz) and he accepted to be baptized the first lesson we had with him! So glad I was able to stay in the chesterfield ward for another transfer to see these baptisms! But I'm sad to be leaving because I know we have about 5 more people on date for this next transfer in our ward. But the work is progressing and this area is amazing! Celestial Chesterfield! 🌟

 Sandra is on date to be baptized December 8th!

 Francisco has not accepted a date yet but this week is the week, I feel it!! 👐

 I love being out here and being able to share my testimony and helping others come to know Christ for themselves! I pray that all of you do the same.

Con amor,  Hermana Slack ♡

Makell wrote this in my letter and I thought it was too cute not to share:     I love being a missionary. I love hearing prayers for us, that's me! I'm a missionary! Lol. I had a funny dream the other day. You and I went to chic fil a and they asked if I was a missionary and we could get a discount. You said no and I was so confused, you started to drag me out the door and I yelled to everyone pointing to my imaginary tag walking backwards while you were pulling me "I AM a missionary! I AM a missionary!!" And you pulled me out of there hahah 🤣🤣😂😂😂

She's doing an amazing job.  We couldn't be more proud of her and her progress in the gospel.  Thank you all for your support!

[ismael37olson]

The Power of Love Can Make a Zombie Too!

It's hard to believe it's over. It was five years ago that I set out to write The Zombies of Penzance. It seemed so perfect, so deliciously fucked up, and the process of "translating" the story , the changing of Gilbert's pirates into zombies, hardly disturbed the plot at all (though I later made some larger plot changes). I know you want to ask, so yes, I was seriously stoned when I thought of the idea. I immediately loved everything about it. I already deeply loved The Pirates of Penzance. I love zombie movies. I love mashups. Plus, I quickly decided that my approach would include an elaborate, though entirely false, backstory about the creation of The Zombies of Penzance. In fact, that meta-layer became an important part of the humor. We tell the audience Gilbert wrote these zombie lyrics, but then throughout the evening, we keep smacking them with anachronisms, four-letter words, and other morsels that Gilbert would/could never have written -- including every reference to zombies, which hadn't entered the awareness of Western culture yet. I loved all of that. The inherent wrongness of it all. More than anything what I loved most was the fundamental idea of telling a horror story in the language of English light opera, possibly the most "wrong" storytelling form imaginable for this content. That was the appeal for me, more than anything else. I love things, particularly art, that are obviously wrong or fucked-up. That's so interesting, and often, so funny. I also loved the idea that this would be New Line's second zombie musical, since we did the very serious Night of the Living Dead in 2013. And its our seventh horror musical, following our productions of Rocky Horror, Sweeney Todd, Bat Boy, In the Blood, and Lizzie. Should we also count Urinetown...? Throughout the time I've been working on this, I was always mindful of the fact that no matter how funny or meta-ironic my text was, it had no real value on the page. It's only a zombie operetta when it's live (dead?) onstage. I needed lots of people to make it into live theatre. That's true of all our shows, but since this was an awfully odd experiment, it was constantly in my awareness. When I talked to friends about it, at some point I'd always throw in, "...if I ever finish it, and if we produce it..." We held a public reading in January. To my amazement, 150 people showed up, and to my greater amazement they followed the plot easily and fully embraced my multiple layers of meta, my blatant anachronisms, and the four-letter words sprinkled throughout. The audience really loved both the ways in which I had stayed true to Gilbert & Sullivan and their traditions, and also the ways in which I violated that. It's actually a fairly complex piece, and I was delighted that many of the reviewers noticed and appreciated that. Paul Friswold wrote in his Riverfront Times review:

Scott Miller and John Gerdes are the responsible parties, tinkering with Gilbert's lyrics and Sullivan's music to create something more than the sum of the parts. The two St. Louisans have added modern references, profanity and a careful adherence to the spirit of the original operetta. Portraits of George A. Romero and Queen Victoria hang above the old-fashioned stage and its working footlights, hinting at the twin forces at work here. Romero is the godfather of zombies in popular entertainment, and Victoria led the society that simultaneously embraced Gilbert & Sullivan's jaunty work and harbored a morbid fascination with life after death. All of these elements come together on stage, to strange and often comic effect. . . . But it's not all fun and pop-culture riffs. Despite his lethal nature, the Major-General has a most troubled conscience. The second-act song "When the World Went Bad" cracks open the show's candy coating to reveal the darkness within. Stanley sings of his fears about the forces bringing the dead to life, and worries about the coarsening of his soul. Is he less moral than the Zombie King, who spares some people (albeit under false pretenses)? The Major-General kills them all, and then shakes with terror and remorse late at night. Is he worse than what he hunts? It's a question that harkens back to Richard Matheson's 1954 novel I Am Legend, which was Romero's own inspiration. The book also informs the finale, which is preceded by a delightfully ridiculous brawl between the Stanley daughters, who are in their bloomers and bearing cricket bats and nunchucks, and the zombie horde. Things become very dark indeed. But you know what they say: It's always darkest before the dawn of the dead.

Some people reflexively dismissed the show -- without seeing it of course -- as a stunt, a bastardization, a one-joke show. I'll admit that my new Major-General lyric is a stunt, but so is Gilbert's original. That's what patter songs are. Beyond that, The Zombies of Penzance is an experiment in form and content, it's a big over-arching meta-joke about lost and discarded works, and it's a translation in terms of cultural context and also in terms of themes. As I wrote in another blog post, The Pirates of Penzance is about how absurd and arbitrary class distinctions are. But though I changed the basic story very little, the substitution of monsters (zombies) for "monsters" (pirates) changes more than you'd expect. The Zombies of Penzance is about the Other-ing of those who are different from us, particularly by those who claim the moral high ground.

And also, because I cut the policemen from the story, and gave their songs to the Stanley daughters, who are now trained zombie hunters, it's also a story about women standing up for themselves, fighting back, solving their own problems. I was honestly shocked at how empowering it apparently felt for women in our audience when the daughters marched on in their zombie hunter clothes in mid-Act II, particularly I think for women who know Pirates. The journey's been five years for me, but it's also been two years for John Gerdes, who adapted the music and orchestrated it. He adapted and orchestrated all the music for our reading last January, then he orchestrated Yeast Nation for us, then he came back to Zombies, finished his work and incorporated my rewrites from the reading. And then John and his wife Lea played in the band for the show. So I suspect John will have some zombie withdrawal as well. This amazing cast has been working on this show since last November, when we started rehearsals for the reading. They have worked so hard on this score, both musically and conceptually. I realized early on that we had to apply the lessons of Little Shop, Bat Boy, and Urinetown to The Zombies of Penzance. The more seriously we take it, the funnier it gets; and in parallel to that, the better we sing the music, the more seriously we take that, the funnier the show gets. This isn't Evil Dead. To maintain the crazy meta-story, our audience had to believe this was intended to be performed at the Savoy Theatre in 1879. The more legit the music, the funnier the show.

And likewise, the better the craft -- rhymes, scansion, etc. -- the funnier the show. The Major-General's big patter song, "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Era Zombie Killer," is funny partly because the craft is good. Really, I guess all this is a lesson Gilbert and Sullivan learned long before Little Shop of Horrors. Almost all their shows are inherently ridiculous stories (about inherently ridiculous aspects of Western culture) which they present utterly straight-faced. No matter how wacky Gilbert's text gets, Sullivan's music is always straight-faced. This has been such a wonderful experience for me, bringing two of my greatest loves together, G&S and zombies. To quote my own lyric:

Hail, zombies, thou heav’n-made dead! Forsaken by the God we dread. Great metaphor for all we fear! All hail the end of all that we hold dear!

I was very lucky to find a cast full of really strong, funny, talented, fearless actors to bring my show to life, and almost all of them have stayed with the show since last November. I am very grateful. And then to get such warm, overwhelming responses to it! Look at some of these press quotes:

"Another triumph for New Line. . . a hilariously inspired joke." -- Calvin Wilson, St. Louis Post-Dispatch "The funniest show that New Line Theatre has ever mounted." -- Judy Newmark, All The World's a Stage "Both a nightmare and a delight — let's call it a delightmare." -- Paul Friswold, The Riverfront Times "Uproarious." -- Jeff Ritter, Critical Blast "It's amazing. . . so much fun." -- Kevin Brackett, ReviewSTL "A wonderful whirlwind of apocalyptic delight." -- Tanya Seale, BroadwayWorld "Reverently irreverent and witty. . . a delightfully fun, pointedly funny musical." -- Tina Farmer KDHX "Let the wackiness ensue." -- Lynn Venhaus, STL Limelight "In terms of humor and sheer musicality, it’s remarkable." -- Michelle Kenyon, Snoop's Theatre Thoughts

But our show has closed and my zombie journey ends, for now. We've already gotten a couple requests for rights to perform the show, so the Zombie King may live (die?) on. But for all practical purposes, the ride is over. I will miss these characters and this beautiful music, and this extraordinary cast. It was so thrilling every night when they sang the a cappella chorale late in Act I, "Hail Zombies!" -- such a massive, gorgeous sound (due in large part to music director Nic Valdez)! John and I will be cleaning up / correcting the script and score, and then we'll publish them on Amazon, so they'll be available soon. And I won't swear to it, but we also may be releasing a live cast album. And yes, we will license other theatres to produce it.

And don't tell anybody... but I'm already working on another "new" G&S show. No promises, but I may end up writing a G&S horror trilogy before I'm done. I can hear the heads of G&S fans exploding as I type this... Suggestions are welcome for source material for the third in the trilogy. I'll leave you with one of my favorite bits from Zombies. Thank you, St. Louis, for once again, taking a chance on us and totally embracing the insanity we've wrought. We owe you so much!

My zombie hunting habits, though a potent, little metaphor, Are really more subversive than the critics give me credit for. In nineteenth cent’ry operetta, comedy or thriller, I am still the very model of a modern-era zombie killer!

Long Live the Musical! Scott from The Bad Boy of Musical Theatre http://newlinetheatre.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-power-of-love-can-make-zombie-too.html

[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.

#twilightficmas2019 #twilight fic #twilight #alice cullen #jasper hale #cullen family #jalice #alice x jasper #fic #my fic: magnolia #my fic: hush hush #my fic: the beautiful and the strange #my fic: wonderland #series: tuslomab #my writing #wip

[thenoticeblog]

THIS is what 2017 was like for me....

This pretty much sums up 2017 for me. Love. Loss. And Lessons. 

It's been a while since I've posted, and I'm still working on a ton more projects coming up that I'll be releasing soon. But I couldn't have made it this far without all of the help and support from my amazing team/homies-for-life  Glenn Quentin George, Elliot Peter Guilbe, Joshua Lopez, Greg Casimir,  Philip Haywood Reynolds, Tati Ana, Mark Fraunhofer, Sebastian Palmer, Cam Burley, Jalen Thompson, J Alejandro Estrella, Remy Litvin, Sita Sarkar. What was 2017 like for you?

-----

All love and gratitude to Sidiki Fofana & Brittany Banks.  I miss you terribly, but I am so GRATEFUL to have been your friend. 

Sidiki was preternaturally genuine, selfless and the hardest working person I ever met. He didn't have to help me in my career, or be a supportive and honest lil bro - but he was, and he was like that for so many of my friends and strangers alike. He was light. 

Brittany and I go wayyyy back to the high school days. She always had an eye for the bigger picture. Just wisdom and kindness. I still remember the last conversation we had, I remember being just flat out inspired by how she was creating a space for nonprofits ran by people of color. Being young and Black in STL was not easy at ALL. But friends like her just gave you strength to carry on.

Rest in peace.

- Paul Notice Like. Share. Love.

#paul notice #paul's vlog #2017 #goodbye 2017 #i'm back #video #videos #vlog

[tnaog-blog]

Network Update 12/7/17

Two weeks ago we once again gathered at Opryland Hotel for our annual youth convention. This year 1900+ students and leaders congregated in the Presidential Ballroom with a unified focus…the presence of the Lord. Catherine Mullins led us in worship and Karen Wheaton preached two powerful messages. I am so grateful for their investment into this Movement. However, what makes a TYM gathering special is the sense of family in the air. Along the way this has morphed from an annual event to a reunion of sorts. Youth Pastors who only see each other a few times a year have the chance to reconnect, the AIM team from last summer met up, camp interns reassembled and students from across the state joined their collective voices to call out to the One. Not only did we celebrate God’s goodness in free worship expressions, but we also tied to his mission through generosity. Youth pastors like Chase Hawkins, Derek Robertson and Bryce Harper (among many others) are creating a culture of practical generosity in the lives of our young people. This year at convention we received $46,000+ in our STL offering. To date, we have exceeded our average giving the last few years by $50,000+. So much of that giving has come directly from students and leaders leveraging their talent and being sacrificial for the cause of Christ. We are in a special moment in TYM.

As we closed the conference, I once again sensed the mandate of heaven to prioritize the presence of the Lord in our TYM gatherings…to perpetuate Pentecost…to contend for a wide-spread move of the Holy Spirit. And that is what we will continue to do.

Along the way, my heart was deeply touched as I considered how many people are willing to come along side our District Office team to make an event like this possible. If I begin giving names I am certain to accidentally omit someone. We had dozens of people working behind the scenes to make sure every detail went smoothly. Personally, it is humbling to look around and watch all of these Jesus-loving, talented people sow their lives into this Movement. It is also humbling to think of the effort required for a leader to bring a group to convention…How many people gave generously in our churches so kids could come and encounter the Lord…How many pastors made it a priority on the church calendar…How many parents saw the value in this experience and made family sacrifices to get their kids there. All of us were involved…we all had a part to play…we all made an investment. It is not lost on me how special it is for all of the pieces to come together so a generation can encounter Jesus. To every one of you…Thank You.

- Jeremy Austill

District Youth Director

CREDENTIAL RENEWALS

Don't forget it's credential renewal season. The TN Ministry Network Deadline is December 15th. Renew online here.

As a reminder, there is a renewal fee of $10.00 due to the TN Ministry Network.

10 Mistakes Churches Make at Christmastime

Christmas is a wonderful time of the year. Some would even say it’s the most wonderful time of the year. While it still has its wonderment, Christmastime has a tendency to be stressful as well—especially in the church. Read more...

Five Key Steps to Reach and Retain Guests

We are living in a world of post-cultural Christianity. Our churches can no longer expect guests to show up just because we have the doors open. We have to be prayerful. We have to be intentional. Read more...

Intercessory Prayer Needs

Steve & Vada Allen, Gene Burgess, Lola Burns, Ron Bush, Cooper Byrd, Virginia Chapman, Don Churchwell, Loni Dobbins, Lynn Drumwright, Gaylon & Mary Echols, Gary Ferrell, Pastor Noble Gammon, Winnie Grimes, Tracy Hagerman, Julie Headley, Bud & Sue Hudspeth, Jerry Jochem, Christi Jones, Kathy Kelly, Wanda Kramer, Frank & Sue Livesay, Pixie Moore, Shannon Morgan, Janett Ogg, Wesley Payne, Gail Poore, Tony & Sheri Ray, Margaret Ridley, Rebecca Sample, Monica Sanders, Wayne Simmons, Shirley Smith, Mike Tullos, Doak Turner, Mike Vandergriff, Larry & Carol Vine, and Jimmy Williams.