ENTRY FOR THE PLOT BUNNY CONTEST
Story Name: The Other Side of Night
Word Count (not including header/author's note): 5,589
This is mine, that is all.
To see other entries in the Plot Bunny Contest, please visit the following C2:
Plot Bunny #2: Bella is a waitress in a diner that Edward visits very day. He orders the same thing, and makes little conversation with her, but clearly they're both interested. Something happens one day and they start to get to know each other.
Fuck, come on. Get up and get your ass out of bed and go to work; never mind that the sun has set, that it's dark, and any sane person is relaxing, regenerating, settling in for the night. No Bella, it's time for you to get the fuck up and earn a goddamn living.
I groan. I want to be asleep, dreaming.
I dream of a body, hands, lips, eyes, reaching out to me.
I dream of calm tender touches, of want and escape. I dream of a warm, hard body wrapped around my own, coaxing me awake, alive; long fingers teasing, full wet lips lightly pressing against mine.
Eyes, big and bright, full of desire. I dream of hands touching and hands holding.
I dream of one day not having to do this.
"Bellllllllla, turn off your fucking alarm already, we're trying to sleep." I can hear her down the hall despite the fact that both our bedroom doors are closed and the building is old and the walls are thick.
I sigh. Alice, sometimes you're just rude. Yeah, I know you've worked all day and your ass is dragging. At least you get some sense of a normal life, get to see the sun rise and fall and sleep wrapped tightly in the arms of a boy that loves you.
I know they're not sleeping, but with me living here, their "alone time" is limited. I know they want me up and out of the apartment as soon as possible.
"Sorry guys," I mumble. I don't expect them to hear me. I roll over and turn off the blare of the clock that is supposed to remind me to get out of bed at nine o'clock five nights a week. It is now quarter after. Once again, Alice has succeeded where my clock has failed.
I roll my sorry ass out of bed and shuffle down the hall to the kitchen. I'm still in my boxers and a beater. It's hot, it's summer and we have no air-conditioning. I don't care, Jasper has seen it before.
I smell the coffee waiting for me.
I'm sorry Alice; I know you know how much this sucks. Thank you.
Actually, I don't thank Alice enough—not only for the coffee, but for a place to crash and a chance to get away from the cloud of confusion and indecision that has become my existence. She's giving me a chance to clear my head, to get some distance, while I make a little money.
In the middle of my junior year at UW, I lost it. I was fringe, dancing on the edges of everything. School, friends, nothing made any sense and I was committed to nothing-alienated from my own life, simply going through the motions. After winter break, I just couldn't do it anymore. I had been bobbing around in the ocean of school with no direction and no real motivation. With no real ties, I dropped everything and out of college. Although my dad wasn't happy, he gave me his blessing.
Always my other half, always there when I needed her, Alice took me in, as if she was waiting for me. Arms and heart wide open, she welcomed me back into her life and gave me a home.
When she accepted the offer to attend the Art Institute in Chicago, I was lost. We grew up together, never apart.. Then she left. Now, she had Jasper and she was living. I was living with them. I'd never had a calling like she did. Where and when I hoped to find one was anyone's guess.
I finish my coffee and pull an apple out of the fridge. If the caffeine hasn't gotten to me by now, the crunch of the fruit usually does.
"Hey Bella, good apple?" Jasper grins at me. He knows he's caught me thinking too much about things I can't figure out.
"Jasper, shit, did I wake you up with my enthusiastic chewing?" He's standing at the sink in nothing but a pair of shorts, which look like he put on as an afterthought. I guess we're getting pretty comfortable around each other.
"Naw, Alice just needs some water." He smirks, gulping down a glass before re-filling it.
I clean up my mess and start to head to the shower, I need to get going and leave them alone.
"Yeah, Jasper?" I stop and look over my shoulder.
He approaches me, trying not to spill Alice's water. "You know you can stay here as long as you want, right? I mean, we're cool with whatever, you know that?"
"It's just hard, you know? It's been months and I can't seem to wrap my head around anything and all I seem to do is work. It's not fair to the two of you." It does feel that way. I've been here since winter and now it's hot as fuck and nothing has changed.
He kisses my forehead. "Stop trying so hard. I'll see you in the morning." He heads back down the hall to Alice.
I'm on the L looking out, watching other people's lives go by framed in windows.
I wonder what the shift is going to be like. If it's going to be busy. If Jane is going to be loud, bitchy and crass. I actually don't mind her that way so much. It keeps the night going and when needed, customers in their place.
Mostly I wonder if he is going to be in again. He's been in every night for the last few weeks— same time, same order, same quiet darkness surrounding him. He seems heavy, like he's bearing the weight of secrets. He looks so tired. I can't deny that I'm drawn to him. Although we rarely speak about anything of consequence, he emits a force; a frequency that makes my body hum. I can't help wonder why, what part of his strange energy calls to me.
I walk around the corner and down the street. It's a decent street in a nice neighborhood. There are a couple of shops, a few bars and several restaurants and the Moon Down Diner, open 23 hours a day. The food is good, nothing fancy and the décor is pretty much the same. It's an easy place with no pretensions. It's usually quiet, but we get a few rowdy drunks on occasion looking for food after a night of drinking and we have a few night time regulars.
When I get there, Jane is already prepping in the kitchen. She looks up and gives me one of her two traditional evening salutes. Tonight it's the finger, which means she's happy to see me.
I check in with Laurent. The only time we see each other, ever, is change of shift. I have no idea what his life is like except that he is gay and can handle the dinner rush by himself. He gives me a run down on the few tables that are occupied, a heads up on the drunk sitting at the counter and he gets ready to leave.
I eye the drunk. He's a regular, just in a bit early tonight. I'm not worried about him. I check with the other tables and run to the kitchen to see how Jane is doing. She's chopping and slicing and knows I am there behind her.
"James and Riley said dinner was dead. I hardly have to do any prep. You and your boy are going to have to entertain me tonight, just so you know. No pressure." She peeks around her shoulder and winks.
"What boy are you talking about?" I hope I'm not so obvious, though she does have the best vantage point. She can watch the diner from behind the counter and no one even knows she's there—except when she yells or swears or when it's really fucking busy. Then it's pretty apparent that there is someone in the kitchen.
"He watches you, you know." She goes back to her chopping and slicing, dismissing me. I chuff and she laughs.
I bring the guy at the counter some more coffee and water pass out the checks to the remaining tables and that's it, time to wait and see who comes in tonight. I stock and I clean. A few more men come in; they're older and just need time to sober up before they head to wherever they go. It's pushing two a.m. and we get a small flurry of post-bar patrons looking for munchies. They're pretty well behaved.
I stare at Jane and then the clock. I'm at the window waiting for Jane to put up an order. My belly starts to flutter as the bell on the front door rings. He walks in, heading to the back booth, long strides in heavy boots. His jeans are dark and dirty and there's a book shoved in his back pocket. The black t-shirt he wears is frayed and untucked. It barely covers the black leather belt that holds the pants around his hips or the peek of ink underneath it. His eyes are cast down at his feet, as if to make sure they reach their destination.
"Bella, order up." Jane rings the bell, despite the fact I'm standing in front of her. "Stop drooling." She smirks at me.
I take the food to one of the drunken tables and make my way back to him. He's reading The Jungle. He looks up at me but doesn't say anything.
"Hi, you want the usual?" My voice is soft and unsettled. I don't know why. I'm alone in a restaurant all night with a bunch of drunks, why does this one man unnerve me?
"Yeah, that would be great." He's looking at me, like he's waiting.
I meet his eyes and take a deep breath. "Okay, I'll be right back." His mouth twitches a little at the corner, a smile? I feel flush and a flutter and the corner of his mouth inches up a bit more.
I try to hide my smile by biting my lip from the inside. "Right. I'll be back."
I check on the other tables and put in his order.
"Usual?" Jane asks.
I just nod. One of the men at the counter waves me over. I reach to grab the pot of coffee but he shakes his head and leans toward me over the counter.
He's embarrassed. "Bella, I don't have any money tonight. I'm good for it tomorrow though, is that all right?" His voice is low and shaky. He's older and dressed in a suit, though worn and a tie loose around his neck. He's in most nights, late and alone. He is familiar to me although I don't know him. He smells slightly of alcohol.
Fuck. "Of course it's okay, don't worry about it…"
"Jay, my name is Jay."
"Jay, we're good. See you tomorrow okay?" He nods. "Thanks Bella, have a good night." He's out the door to someplace safe, I hope.
I am stunned? I can't say I'm surprised. We get a pretty mixed crowd, especially at night and I can tell that some of the guys are hurting. But something has shaken me and I need to take time to think about it.
Ding. "Bella, order up." Her voice is softer than usual, but it gets my attention.
"What was that about?" The question pulls me back into the real world, or at least the one I am presently in. She's not looking at me, concentrating on her work but I can tell there is more going on in her head than just that.
"Nothing, he just didn't have any money tonight. I told him it was okay." Because it is okay, it's just coffee.
She peeks up at me. "Take your boy his food, he looks concerned."
I glance over my shoulder and he is watching me, us, his food? I'm not sure. I gather up his grilled cheese, milk, water and extra napkins—the usual—and head over to him. Either he is very hungry or he is watching me, because his eyes ever leave mine.
"Sorry it took so long."
He clears his throat. "It's okay." His voice is rough, but forgiving.
From behind me I hear loud laughter and boisterous boys and the well behaved crowd is no longer. "I'm sorry, I'll be back."
I rush off to quell whatever is going on, which turns out not to be not much. I spend the next hour or so clearing tables and making sure he has what he needs, which is usually just water. He's quiet, solitary, and spends the night reading. I am reluctant to disturb him, so I watch. Despite what Jane says, I never catch him looking at me.
It's getting close to four a.m. and we close for an hour to clean and prep for the morning rush. I usher out the last few patrons and bring him his check like I have every night for the last few weeks.
Except this night, I try.
"I love that book. I think I've read it at least twice."
He looks up and quirks his head. "Yeah, for pleasure?"
I shift my feet. Something about his voice changes when he's not ordering food. It's softer and deeper, with a mix of hope and sadness. It feels like him.
"Well, once for a class, but yeah for pleasure. It's like reading a documentary and the passion behind it is so real. I think…" I stop talking. I've intruded. I can feel his restlessness.
His eyes are penetrating and intense. "I, um, should get going."
"Oh. Sorry," I rush to apologize. "Good night then."
I want to hit my head repeatedly on something hard and unforgiving. Instead, I go back to my cleaning. I can hear him rustling around and sliding his tall frame out of the booth.
As he brushes by me he whispers, "Good night Bella."
I follow behind him to lock the door and watch him walk until I can't anymore. I rest my head against the cool glass of the window. As I stare, I hear Jasper's voice in my head 'stop trying so hard' and wonder if that's just the secret to life.
After he's gone, I wander back to his booth to clear his table. The money is under the check as always, but there is a separate pile with a few bills and a piece of paper on top. It's a drawing of an older man's arm with a feminine hand resting on it. Below are the words 'It's just coffee.'
I'm on the L going home. The world is dark and all the windows are black, the rocking motion lulls me to sleep.
I dream of a soft voice, whispers of love and desire. I dream of eyes so dark and intense, they hold mine until my body erupts and I am consumed.
I make my way home in a daze, the whispers of dreams following me until I'm in my bed, dreaming.
I open my eyes and stare at the blank white walls and peeling paint, for the first time I feel their emptiness and need for repair.
I'm on the L. I stare out the window, but I am blind and unseeing.
I wonder about Jay and whether he's going to come back. I'm not worried about the money, but I wonder what happened to his life, where he got lost. Or has he always been wandering? Did he stop trying or did he try too hard? Do we all end up like that without direction or is it just bad luck?
It scares me to think that life could be so random, arbitrary; providing a net for some while allowing others to free fall.
I think about him, because I do. He fills me with wonder and warmth and I don't understand it.
It's busy when I walk into the diner. Jane gives me the second traditional salute—she ignores me. Laurent ends up staying late to help me catch up. It's Friday night, the beginning of the weekend and the remnants of the dinner rush are still scattered here and there.
Jay comes in and pays his tab. I let him, because it seems important.
We hit a lull around one a.m., giving me time to clean and stock and check on Jane.
It isn't long before it gets busy again. A few couples and some larger tables; everyone is happy and it's easy.
I'm cleaning off the back booth when I hear the door. I feel the flutter, and place my hand over my belly because already I can feel the mixture of want and warmth he stirs inside me. I look up and he's heading toward me—or the booth. His hair is a mess and he looks worn out as he stands next to me and waits for me to finish cleaning. I can feel him as I lean over the table to reach the far corners and I am dreaming.
Large hands around my waist, hot breath on my neck, a warm body pressing up against mine.
No, I am awake.
I straighten and look up at him. His eyes are dark and his face is as flushed as mine. Can you hear me or do you feel it too?
"Yeah, it was." He pulls the book out of his pocket …Pig Earth, and slides into the booth. I smile at the book, but I'm afraid to say anything.
He looks from me to the book. "You've read?" His eyes seem eager as he awaits my answer.
"Yeah, I've read all his stuff. But this is, by far, his best fiction."
He considers this, his brows knit as he regards me. "I agree."
Nothing else is forthcoming and I don't want to push. I did last night and he left. I don't want him to leave. "Usual?"
I rush to put in his order, but Jane is busy and behind. I quickly check my tables and run to the kitchen to see if I can help. She usually doesn't let me; her kitchen is her territory, but it's hectic enough tonight. So, I wash some pans and restock some veggies for her.
I run out a few orders; the dining room is loud and a bit tense. I do a quick scan, assessing all the tables. The only potential problem I see is Jay. He's trying to socialize with some of the other men sitting at the counter. For the most part, they do not seem to be bothered. But I'm going to have to pay attention. I hate this part of my job. I hate that it's Jay.
"Bella." Jane calls and I pick up Edward's sandwich. Placing it in front of him, he seems distracted. He is. He's watching Jay. We both see him slip a bottle out of his pocket and spike his coffee.
I hang my head for a minute to gather myself.
"I'll be back."
I round the counter and approach Jay. His back is to me as he leans against it. He's loud, he's drunk and I hope he is reasonable.
"Jay." I wait for a response but his voice is too loud. "Jay!"
I have the attention of everyone else sitting around, but not Jay. I can feel Jane in the window behind me. I put my hand up so she knows I think I can handle this. I can feel him, watching. I don't want to touch a drunken man from behind, but I see no other choice. I reach across the counter, put my hand on his shoulder and shake it gently.
He attempts to spin his stool around to face me but slips. Shit. I grab his arm to steady him; he's sweaty. He turns to face me, his face pink and bloated, and his eyes bloodshot and small. He leans towards me and clasps my hand to his sticky arm. His breath is hot and reeks of alcohol and there is a mean emptiness in his eyes. He leans towards me and clasps my hand to his sticky arm.
"Little bitches like you call me Mr. Jenks, do you understand?"
I look up and My Boy is standing five feet from Jay Jenks. His face is drawn and dark, his body rigid in anticipation. Jane is close too, I can feel her wrath radiating behind me.
I swallow my fear and my anger, it's acid and sour in my mouth. "Mr. Jenks, I apologize for the misunderstanding." He relaxes enough so I can slip my hand out from under his and take a step back. Nobody else moves.
"If I may have a moment of your time please?" He sits up and looks at me, slightly confused.
"You're being a bit loud and disturbing the rest of my customers. I think maybe it's time for you to … go home." I can't say leave; it seems so harsh and I am hoping to god that he has a home.
Jay Jenks stands unsteadily. "That's right, you just remember, a little respect goes a long way, fucking piece of trash." I know he's drunk and trying to save face, but it still hurts. I rinse my hands in cool water, hoping to rid them of his sweat and the ugly feeling I have inside me.
Jane has the phone in her hands. "Cops?"
"No, Jane, just let him go."
He leaves and the room decompresses. A few people clap, but I do not feel good about what just happened. And I might throw up.
"You okay?" Jane's voice is directly behind me.
"Yeah, I'm good." But I'm not; I can feel the adrenaline starting to take over my body. I gaze up at my boy, standing in the middle of the dining room, his eyes are still dark but his body has eased. I feel him and I hum. I need this sensation, from him. I take what I can get from where he is and quickly check my tables; pouring, water, coffee and taking out the rest of the food Jane has just put up.
He doesn't move. While I'm whirling around and spinning out of control, he is still and center, watching me and waiting. I know if I stop, I will lose and my body will betray me. I will go to him; wanting, needing to feel everything that he has. I'm afraid he won't be able or even want to withstand the force of me if I throw myself at him, running and crashing into him, both body and soul. I fear I may pass through him like a ghost, or worse... his body will be unyielding and I will shatter.
His one word, my name. I give up and give in. He takes my free hand and walks me to the back booth.
"Your food is cold."
He makes no move to sit. My hand in his, he raises them together and tips my chin up. He's searching my eyes, as if trying to gauge the amount of damage done.
I can feel myself starting to shake. I'm hot and I need to get this out of me. "I'm okay; I just need to go outside for a minute." He doesn't believe me, I can tell, but he nods and releases my hand.
I make it to the kitchen before my body begins to release the venom inside.
"Adrenaline rush?" Jane's scraping the grill. "I know how you can get rid of that." She looks up and smirks.
"I'm going out back for a few, can you just keep an eye on things?" This is a huge favor, but she knows I don't usually ask, she nods I am out the door.
The summer night is warm and the air is thick and not the balm I am seeking. I pace, trying to postpone the inevitable. I can't go too far- the alley is dark and damp and probably not safe, but it's quiet. I change direction, my head down and step into a warm body. His hands grasp my shoulders and pull me to him. He's tall and he's comfort and I can feel us calm. My body finally lets go. I shake like the ground is moving, plates shifting under my feet, cracks opening across the earth. It hurts. I try to breathe, but it's like inhaling water and I can't surface. I feel him holding me, rocking me, rubbing my back. Steady, waiting for the storm to pass. I grasp his shirt in my fists, trying to hold on; I bury my face in the cotton. The smell of him, beer and sweat and work begin to quiet the quakes.
"How did you get back here?" I talk into his chest. I am not ready to face reality yet.
"Jane let me through the kitchen." He's still rocking me, his fingers mapping paths across my back and down my arms.
"You know Jane?"
"No, not really. I work down the street at Denali's." It's a bar. I've heard both Jane and Jasper mention it.
I shudder, thinking of what happened tonight. "Do you know Jenks; I mean have you seen him around?"
He sighs. "Yeah, he spends a fair amount of time at the bar, but he's usually quiet, you know, keeps to himself. He seems like an okay guy." I feel him shrug. "I don't know what happened tonight."
I feel tears well up and that tight feeling in my throat. "But, what happened before? I mean how did he get… so lost?" I'm crying. I can't stop.
"I don't know. It scares me too."
I finally take in a deep breath of air and him and relax. I look up; his eyes are open and bottomless, offering sanctuary.
"What's your name?" It's a whisper and it's a push. I wait, wanting so much more.
But for right now, this is enough. We both smile, a little, and he pulls me back close and tight and I feel safe. I can hear his heart beating—strong, constant.
"Bella, get your ass in here." I can see Jane's figure shadowed in the doorway. It's slightly menacing.
"Oops, I better go back inside." I release his shirt from my fists and tears and smooth out the wrinkles they leave. He gasps and stills my hands. I want to know more of what's underneath the wrinkled cotton, beneath his skin.
"Back to work." It's practically a whisper from his lips.
Everyone is nice and understanding and I make extra money. I clear tables and clean and start stocking for the next shift. I want out of here as soon as possible.
Edward has been quiet, reading, watching. I hear him move.
He's standing. "I better leave; you're getting ready to close up."
"No…I mean, you can stay, if you want to." I'm hot and hesitant.
"I could walk you home?" His lips curve gently.
"You could do that." I smile, I can't help it.
It's still dark. We're walking home. His strides are long and he slows so I can keep up. He's holding my hand.
"So, how long have you worked at the bar?" I hedge.
"Almost a month, I got laid off from my last job. A friend of my uncle's owns the bar, so it was kind of an easy fix, at least for now."
"So you have family here?" I suck in my lip, wondering if he is going to answer.
"No, not really." His steps speed up a bit. He's uncomfortable.
I squeeze his hand. He stops and looks at me. I can see the darkness he carries in his eyes and I feel the weight all around me.
His grip on my hand tightens.
"My mother died right after high school."
"Your father?" We don't move. He runs his other hand through his hair and looks at his feet.
"I don't know. He left when I was young."
He squeezes my hand and pulls. We start walking again. I stop pushing.
We get to my apartment as the sun starts to rise. We haven't spoken about much more— reading and books and work. It's good to know that, the easy stuff, we can do.
We're facing each other; I stand up on my toes and kiss his cheek. I want to stay there, my lips to his skin.
"Thank you Edward." My voice is soft and wistful.
He pulls me to him, close and holds me, brushing his face on the top of my head. "I'll see you later?"
"Late though, you work late on Saturday's right?" I feel him smile because now he knows I watch too.
As I open the door to the apartment, I hear Alice and Jasper in the kitchen. They like to get up early on Saturday mornings to go to the market and play.
"Morning Bella." Alice's voice rings like a bell, even though she tries to muffle it for me. "Hey, you're late and you have a goofy look on your face. What's up with that?"
I try. "Nothing, just a good night." I fail.
She whispers, "You talked to him, didn't you?" I don't know why she whispers. Jasper knows the ins and outs of my life as well as she does.
I nod. "I did and now I'm going to bed."
I dream in colors. Black and gray and blue, fast and swirling, but I do not sleep well.
I dream of red and orange and the soft pink of the sky.
I dream of thick brown hair and dark green eyes and I am deep.
For a Saturday, night it is quiet. I don't mind so much really, after last night. Jay Jenks does not come in., I hope he does again, some day. I need to know that he is okay, even though I already know he probably isn't. It's quiet enough that I have time do all my prep for the next shift and the place may even be empty by the time Edward comes in.
It's after three a.m. when I feel Jane's eyes on me. "Boy should be in soon."
I grin. "Yeah, Edward."
She shakes her head. "Finally."
I'm back in the kitchen munching on a carrot when the front door rings. I flutter, maybe even more than before. I wipe my hands on my apron and I am pulled like a magnet.
I'm standing by the counter when he sees me. He tries to suppress the grin that's starting to break out across his face. I watch him cross the floor, his long legs making short work of it. He is beside me in seconds.
"Hey." He sits at the counter.
I quirk my brow. "No booth?"
He shakes his head. "It's late and you're almost done. Quiet tonight?"
"Yeah, but it was nice. Aren't you hungry? I can…"
He shakes his head. "I'm not hungry, Bella. That's not why I come here."
He bows his head and sighs. I'm feeling it again, whatever secrets he carries, and the darkness that seems to rein him in. I reach out to him, my fingers trace his cheek. He looks up at me, his green eyes wet and wanting.
"It's not that bad, really. I just…I have trouble sleeping."
I wait and hope for him to continue. I want to make it better and I don't know how yet. "Is that why you always look so tired?"
He laughs. "That and life, but yeah. I walk a lot, after my shift. I saw you in the window one night and just…I order the grilled cheese because it's the cheapest thing on the menu, that way I can sit and read and just be someplace for a while."
I still don't know how to make it better, but I can give him what he gave me last night. I walk around the counter and he turns to face me. I stand between his legs, reaching up and around to pull him close. He buries his face in my neck and hair, his long arms wrap around me and we rock and hold each other.
"Dude, its four, lock the damn door." Jane bellows from the kitchen.
Edward looks up, brushing the hair from my face. "Thank you."
We're walking home. He's holding my hand. We're quiet, but it's okay, it's nice. We get to my apartment and we stop.
It's still dark.
"Um, I only live a few blocks from here, by the lake. We could go watch the sunrise?" He's watching me.
"I'd like that; I'm not ready to go home yet." I bump his shoulder. "Let's go."
We're sitting in the grass; it's wet from the humidity and morning dew. I'm sitting between his knees, my back resting on his chest, my head on his shoulder, and his arms around me. We wait in silence as the sun takes its first fiery peek of the morning.
For the first time, in a long while, I am awake.
Pig Earth is by John Berger. A collection of short stories about life in France, it's actually part of a trilogy.
Here's his website: http:/www . johnberger .org /home .htm
The Jungle was written by Upton Sinclair. It really is like reading a documentary. It gives insight into the problems of the working class during the Industrial Revolution. You can wiki it.
http:/ en. Wikipedia . org/wiki/The_Jungle
I need to thank nerac (carenl), FarDareisMai2,SophiaAnne and h32mh32m for pre-reading and hand-holding and annabanana for the beta duties. I am a very lucky girl and if I had a transporter, I would beam myself to the four corners of the earth to hug and kiss them all. 22blue, thank you so much for the last minute set of eyes.
They are all FANTASTIC authors and you should read their stuff, seriously.
SophiaAnne made me a banner too, link is on my profile.
Also, thanks to il-bel-mondo, YogaGal and SorceressCirce for coming up with this idea and organizing all the bunnies.
Go, there are tons of little bunnies waiting for you to read and review and vote on them when it's time.
If you made it all the way to the end of this ridic a/n thank you for reading. If you didn't thanks anyway.
Let me know what you think.