#but the hardest part of all was getting the courage to go to a printing service and request this

[addictedtostorytelling]

Hi! Thank you for answering my questions. I hope this "ask" finds you well. I just finished CSI S15 and I would like to know your opinion on these issues:

Why is Sara Sidle so angry? I have seen her spiraling with alcohol, depressed on her love for Boss G and anger about everything in general on S4 & S8 but the angry Sara on S15 is vicious and violent. Assaulting suspects on PD hallways, shouting during interrogation, slamming her hand on the interrogation table... Seriously, Sara Sidle is scary, way out of line and borderline unprofessional. The Angry Sara on the earlier CSI seasons are usually cause by Domestic Violence but the Angry Sara on S15, I can't explain the motivation. It's confusing.

And Greg Sanders is so dull. What happened to the rock and roll head banging, Las Vegas History lovin' Lab Tech turned CSI? His hair used to be so distinct and lively but on S15, his hair is dull and parted sideways. He looks so sad. Like life as CSI has sucked all the fun out of him.

(no complains about Pancho Nicky though 😁)

And every CSI is moonlighting as Lab Techs. No more Gun-expert Bobby, Tech Savvy Archie and Finger Print Reader Mandy/Jackie...now all lab tech duties are divided to Hodges, Henry and the CSI.

Also, I would like to comment on the writers of CSI S15. They are lazy. One case in an episode then a serial killer arc for the entire season. The tangents and possible explanation why a person is a viable suspect is confusing. Whatever happened to the 2 cases per episode concept? That concept worked with high ratings for so many years/seasons so why change it? Now, all CSI worked in 1 case per episode, it seems they are passing tasks with each other that they can do themselves. No wonder it ended on a low rating. I cannot see/feel the magic of CSI anymore. The episodes looks tired and dragging.

I am very sorry for the rant but I stopped watching when Gil Grissom left in S9E10. After multiple watching of CSI Vegas, CSI S01 to S9E10 and CSI Immortality, I finally got the courage to watch all episodes after GG left starting S15. Gosh, my disappointment and frustration were so high that I had to go back and rewatch all GSR scenes on CSI Vegas so I can remind myself that Sara Sidle is not angry and so beautifully in love with her hubby Gil Grissom.

I finished S15 but I am afraid of all the disappointment and frustration I will feel on S14. Still, I will push through so I can say I have watched all CSI Episodes from S01 to S15.

Again, apologies for the rant.

hi, @hiei29!

i’m gonna put my answers under the “keep reading” so as not to poison anyone’s dash, okay?

warning: this post is extremely critical of the writing in the later seasons of the show and especially of the characterization in those seasons. if you are a fan of those seasons, you probably shouldn’t read this post, as it contains a literal salt mine of negativity regarding them.

__

so, uh, i make no secret of the fact that i hate the later seasons of csi with all the salt that is in me, finding them to be some of the worst-written and most disappointing television i have ever watched, a downgrade in every possible way from the early seasons of the show.

there is literally nothing about them i find enjoyable, and i refuse to rewatch them because to me they are so contemptible.

i am afraid to say, but i think you'll discover (since you're watching in reverse chronological order) that things are only going to get worse for you as you delve now into s14 and then s13, which is the absolute nadir of the series and by far the hardest season to watch as a gsr/sara sidle fan.

anyway.

to answer some of your questions, i will first direct you to several posts that cover a lot of the same topics:

this one talks about the poor writing and multiplicity of storytelling problems in the later seasons of the show, explaining why they came about from an outside-of-the-story world perspective. though a lot of the post relates specifically to s10 (and the clumsy way the writers wield ray langston as a character), the same concepts also apply throughout s11-s15, as well.

this one was written after the end of s15 but before news of the show's cancellation had come out and so is in some ways out of date, but it does outline many of the general problems with csi's writing during that late-game era, including its eschewing of character development, how only working on a single case per episode reduced many of the characters to "glorified lab tech" and/or "courier" status (as you describe above), its over-reliance on spectacle, its lack of serialization/continuity, etc.

this one explains in more detail the shift from the traditional a plot/b plot narrative format into the "one case per episode" one and what this move's effects on the show were overall.

this one talks about how greg's characterization and development were first flattened and then dropped in the later seasons of the show, while this one explains how he got stuck in an interminable holding pattern as part of a never-fully-resolved love triangle with him, morgan, and hodges, which ultimately contributed to his "unfinished" feeling as a character at the end of the series.

as for the topic of sara and her anger in the late series:

that issue is one that has its roots in many of the other issues discussed above.

as new writers came onto the show and, steered by their generally poor writing instincts, made the mistake of focusing their attentions on introducing and highlighting the newer characters (first langston, then russell, finn, and morgan) rather than dividing their attentions equally among the whole cast, they neglected the old characters, essentially relegating them to minor character status. though by all rights, once grissom and catherine had left the show, nick, sara, and greg should have moved to center stage just by virtue of their seniority and how invested the audience was in them, they were largely ignored.

nick got the most development out of the trio post-s12 (when catherine left the show and russell, finn, and morgan replaced her), which is perhaps why you find yourself the least disappointed with his characterization out of anyone's, though even he featured far less prominently and received less development than he should have.

in the meanwhile, sara and greg's development completely fell by the wayside.

while greg's "benching" happened in the wake of the failed love triangle storyline of s12 (as described in the post above), sara's came about following her s13 divorce, after which she never really was given another personal storyline again.

though they would both occasionally be the subject of individual "focus episodes" (e.g., see episode 14x16 "killer moves" for greg or episode 15x12 "dead woods" for sara), any and all development they underwent was consigned to those episodes only; all emotional changes, lessons learned or unlearned, progress/regression, etc. they experienced lasted just until the end credits rolled and then was summarily forgotten about going forward, as if it had never happened to begin with. neither one of them had any kinds of serialized arcs to speak of for the last several seasons of the show.

but here's the thing: not only did they not get any character development in the last several seasons of the show, but their characters themselves were also flattened, reduced down to be caricatures of their former selves.

the new writers who came onto the show following the 2008 writers' strike and later (see the first post linked above) hadn't done their homework. none of them read the show bible or really got a feel for the old characters; they knew them only in a very superficial way.

frankly, all of the characters of the later seasons, both old and new, have the same standard base personality: a very one-note, sitcom-esque “quirky smartness” with a uniform sense of humor, uniform approach to problem solving, uniform professional skillset, and uniform “good guy-ness,” which results in them all tending to speak and act mostly the same across scenes, to the point of interchangeability.

seriously: in 80% of the scenes in the later seasons, you could swap out any one character for any other and the tone, timbre, and outcome of the scene would not be altered at all. there’s no perceptible difference between how sara talks and how finn does, how greg would approach an issue versus how nick would, etc.; they’d all make the same quips and take the same actions across the majority of all scenes. 

the writers then tacked on maybe one or two “extra” character traits to each character* in order to “distinguish” them from one another (so that russell becomes base personality + hippie dad, finn becomes base personality + maneater, hodges becomes base personality + self-important weirdo, etc.) and considered their characterization work done, making no further efforts to develop or change anyone over time.

* except for morgan, who is literally just the base personality and nothing else. i mean, seriously, aside from being “nice,” what even is she? how would one describe her? she has no distinguishing characteristics.

compare this very stock characterization in the later seasons to the rich characterization of the early ones: in s1-s8 of the original series, each main character has a very distinctive personality, worldview, and even diction. greg never would or even could have approached solving a problem in the same way that grissom would/could, nick’s dialogue didn’t sound the same across the board as warrick’s, etc. even grissom and sara, who were the two most similar characters, in terms of the basic temperaments, intelligence levels, ways of speaking and comporting themselves, etc., weren’t 1:1 the same as each other; they had enough that varied between them so as not to be mistakable for each other. the main cast felt like six different people, not six versions of the same person. and the storytelling was so much better and more compelling for it! even just on an emotional level, there was so much more dynamism and room for multiple reactions. not everyone was going to bust out the exact same quip at the exact same time, you know?

but whereas the new characters were never anything but this base personality + [insert the one individual characteristic they may or may not possess here], meaning that for as boring as they may be, there’s nothing really to mourn with them in terms of “lost potential,” with the old characters, this adherence to the stock formula is something far more devastating, as in order to make them fit the mold, the writers had to strip them of so much of their former characterizations, divesting them of all of the intricacies that had been part of them throughout the early seasons of the show, leaving them shadows of their former selves.

nick became “standard later seasons personality” plus

nice 

texan

traumatized but we’re not quite sure how/in what ways/to what degree and aren’t consistent about depicting him as such

sara became “standard later seasons personality” plus

uncool/nerdy

sarcastic

angry

greg became “standard later seasons personality” plus

has a crush on morgan??????

(that’s really his only “distinguishing” character trait in the last several seasons.)

and all of them shifted from being dramatic characters who had occasional comedic beats to being comedic characters who had occasional dramatic ones. it was like they had been transposed into a sitcom world, despite the very macabre nature of what their procedural was all about; i call it the “ncis-ification of csi.”

it was as if never having watched the early seasons of the show themselves (or only having watched a few episodes here and there), the later seasons writers turned to the wikipedia character summaries for nick, sara, and greg and then based their entire depictions of the characters going forward on what they found in those few paragraphs of description.

there was no nuance or multivalence to how they handled the characters at all, no sense of recourse to their past developments, no sense of history with them, certainly no development going forward, etc.

so.

for as much as i hate the later seasons for what they did to gsr, i hate them even more for what they did to sara sidle, taking the most wonderfully complex, interesting, realistic, subtle, dynamic, well-wrought character i’d ever had the pleasure of watching on tv and turning her into what was essentially just “angry girl, version 1.0,” totally generic in every way.

i still remember my first time watching the scene in episode 15x12 “dead woods” in which sara stalks abby’s boyfriend slade down the hall at pd, runs him up against the wall, and threatens him. while my first reaction was to full-body cringe because, holy god, that was embarrassingly badly written!, my second reaction was to feel heartbreak, because what i was seeing was such a bastardization of my favorite character that she was almost unrecognizable to me, and it was such a shame.

it was like the writers were vaguely aware of older scenes like the one in episode 01x10 “sex, lies, & larvae,” where sara gets in scott shelton’s face, and wanted to replicate them, but they had no idea what would actually make sara tick or what her mechanics were. 

theirs was just a bad impression of “sara being triggered,” lacking all understanding of her inner emotional world.

and that’s how sara is throughout the later seasons: most often, just the standard base personality, but with occasional flashes of intense and largely unexplained anger thrown in.

and, i mean—

had they wanted to, they maybe could’ve been more deliberate about depicting sara’s anger, making it an actual plot point that after the divorce, she started to be much more hair-trigger and prone to outbursts, constantly simmering with a low current of frustration that sometimes ignited into full-on flares of fiery temper in cases where she was provoked.

they could’ve shown nick and greg worrying about how on-edge she seemed and maybe even herself fretting over her inability to control herself.

they eventually could’ve written something about how the truth was, she found it easier to be angry at the world than to feel her actual, underlying emotion, i.e., heartbreak over losing the love of her life—because at least the anger was somewhat “empowering,” whereas the heartbreak just made her feel small, helpless, hopeless, and vulnerable, and particularly since she feared it might be unending.

because how could she ever be happy again without grissom?   

at some point, they could’ve had the storyline come to a head, maybe with sara crossing a line with a suspect or even one of her team members, being confronted about it (or even faced with suspension) and then breaking down, finally admitting just how hurt she was, maybe going into anger management or therapy or at least just giving voice to her feelings for once.

like.

it wouldn’t have been a storyline i would have favored for her, but it could have been a thing if the writers had wanted to make it one.

it could have been some actual storywork.

but of course it wasn’t.

they never made anything of it.

there was never any sense that the writing of sara as angry was at all purposeful or that it had anything to do with events from her past, either from her childhood or more recently with the divorce.

in the later seasons writers’ incompetent hands, “angry sara” was always just a haphazard thing, something they did with her when the case-of-the-week called for it or when they didn’t know what to do with her otherwise.

never was it delved into.

never was it treated as the problem it was.

since in their minds, sara was just an angry person—ignoring all of her post-episode 05x13 “nesting dolls” development in the earlier seasons of the show—there was no reason to question or probe or explore her anger; it was just a given, something they could fall back on whenever they needed a quick and easy way to ratchet up the emotional tension in a particular episode.

the reason you find yourself unable to explain the motivations behind sara’s anger in s15 is because there aren’t any.

unlike gil grissom, the writers of that season are unwilling to ask what’s made sara so angry. they don’t ever go there, and neither do they want to.

they have no intention to ever look beneath the surface with her.

so they just don’t.

i wish i could tell you that there’s something to look forward to with s14, but there really isn’t. the writing is just as bad and the characterization is just as nonexistent as is the case with s15. sara is certainly just as wasted.

anyway.

thanks for the questions! please feel welcome to send more any time.

[tom-holland-parker]

Drafted

Summary: Bucky has to tell you that he leaves tomorrow but not without leaving you with plans for when he gets back

Pairing: 40s!bucky x reader

Word count: 1344

Notes: Broke my heart while writing this because we all knows what happens after he leaves and Jesus Christ it just hurts to think about how y/n is gonna feel when she realizes he not coming back...ughhhh

Masterlist

Bucky had made a lot of choices in his life, but deciding to keep this a secret was the hardest one. The letter remained in his sock drawer for weeks as he contemplated ways to tell you, his guilt eating him alive as the days drew closer

“I got drafted”

He’d practiced those words over and over again trying to find any way to make them sound different. Trying to make them sound better. Maybe a larger part of him was hoping it would all go away if he avoided it but he knew it wouldn’t, not with the way the war was going.

So now here he was with 1 day left to tell you the truth

Bucky took a deep breath as he knocked on your door, smiling when your mother opened it, “Good Evening Ma’am”

“Hello James, Y/N is just getting her shoes on, please come in” She said as she opened the door wider. Bucky stepped in, enjoying the familiar smell of your mother's apple pie coming from the kitchen, “So where will you two be going tonight?”

“We’re going to the Stark expo tonight” You replied as you came down the stairs. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you, wearing the pink dress he loved on you and the necklace he gave you for your birthday last year. “Well look at you all dolled up for me” He said as he kissed your cheek. 

“Not too bad yourself handsome” You chuckled, “We should get going, Mom I’ll be home by curfew love ya”

///

The night was amazing, filled with fun as you and Bucky looked at all the new inventions. As the night went on Bucky glanced at his watch nervously, “Doll we gotta go” You chuckled grabbing his hand, “My curfew isn’t for another two hours”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders as you both quickly jumped into the car he borrowed from a friend, “We’re actually making a quick stop before I drop you off” He said as he began to drive. Your brows furrowed, “Where exactly are you taking me Mr. Barnes?”

He chuckled, “if I tell you it’d ruin the surprise”

You jokingly huffed in disappointment as you looked out the window, watching as the apartment building quickly turned into houses, you were definitely far from home, “Bucky where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry you’ll like it.” He stopped driving after a few more minutes, parking outside of a small white house with a match white picket fence boarding the lawn. You glanced at him, your face filled with confusion, “A house?”

He chuckled pointing towards the house, “One day I’m gonna buy you that house” You smiled, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you. “And we’ll have two kids,” he continued, “and a dog”

“And fireworks every fourth of July” You chimed in, picturing your picture perfect life with Bucky. He’d come home after a long day of work, greeting you with a kiss. You guys would throw a huge barbeque every fourth of July, ending the night with fireworks and s’mores. You watch from the back door as Bucky plays catch with your son while you cradle the sleeping baby girl in your arms.

So many scenarios played out in your head as you rested in his arms, it wasn’t until he placed a small kiss on your temple that you were pulled out of your imagination. You looked up at him, his lips meeting your for a quick kissed before he pulled away from you, “I have to tell you something”

“What's wrong?” You questioned, noticing the look of nervousness and worry on his face. He took a deep breath, here goes nothing, he thought to himself, “I got drafted. I leave tomorrow”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks, you see the countless of boys being drafted and every night you prayed that Bucky would never be added to that list of boys, but as luck would have it here you were. You stood silent, utterly speechless as your eyes filled with tears. Trying but failing to blink them away as you shook your head in disbelief, “No you’re lying. That’s not something to joke about”

Bucky’s heart broke as he watched you process the words he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you”

“How could you keep this from me?” You wiped your tears, it was useless though, the tears just kept falling. Bucky sighed pulling you into a hug before gently holding your face with his large hands, “I’m sorry, If I could change it I would but don’t worry I’m going to come back to you no matter what it takes”

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat, “Promise?” 

He smiled, kissing your forehead, “I promise”

///

The next day you got up extra early, catching Bucky at the bus stop surrounded by the other drafted men who were saying goodbye to the people they loved, “what are you doing here?” he said as he pulled you into a tight hug, spinning you around before letting you go.

You chuckled, “Did you really think I’d let you leave without saying goodbye?”

“No, I figured you’d find some way to see me before I left.” He said with a smile, “So what do you think” he took a step back so you could see him fully. It hurt to see him in his uniform but you couldn’t ignore how good he looked. 

“Well aren’t you a dreamboat” You joked, “I need a picture before you leave”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but smiled for the camera as you took the picture, you smiled as the polaroid printed, “Gotta show our future kids just how handsome you are” 

“Well it’s only fair that they get to see what a catch their mother is” he grabbed the camera, pulling you closer to him as he took a picture of the both of you. “Keep it” you chuckled, putting it in his pocket, “that way all the pretty nurses will know your mine”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “You know I only have eyes for you doll”

“Alright boys, on the bus” the tall man shouted. You watched as everyone said their final goodbyes. You looked at him, not having the guts to say goodbye, “two kids and a dog” You said quietly as tears slowly trailed down your face. It was an unusual way to say goodbye but it was good enough for you.

Bucky nodded, kissing your forehead before pulling you in for a final hug, “and fireworks every fourth of July”

Present day

It took a long time for Bucky to gain the courage to actually go to the museum, every time he thought about going he would chicken out. Too nervous to think about that time in his life. It took Sam weeks to finally convince him to go and now here he was, staring at the exhibit dedicated to people that died in the war.

He rolled his eyes as he saw his face on the screen, “James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes, died during an ambush. His remains were not found, his only belonging found was a picture many say he kept in his pocket at all times. This picture can be found at the end of the exhibit on the photography wall” He heard the guide tell the group of people nearby. 

He sighed making his way to the end of the exhibit, searching the wall for the picture. It took a few minutes but there it was. There was obvious damage, wear and tear from years of being tossed around but he could still see you. He could still make out all the lines on your face, the shape of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He smiled, taking out his phone to take a picture of it. He took one last look at it before deciding he’d had enough for today. He’d come back another day to see you again

[teddyshoney]

This is my contribution to this week's @gleeful-paintbox-project prompt, Bad Reputation. One of the examples given for ways to work with the prompt was about a character changing their image, and I took it a step further. This one-shot includes Kurt changing his self-image and expressing it to Blaine.

This is the eighth chapter of Glee According to Kurt Hummel. You can read it below the cut or on AO3 or FF.net.

Enjoy!

“Somewhere only we know…”

They were both almost in tears, and Kurt could only look at his boyfriend like that for a few moments before he took a few steps forward, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m never saying goodbye to you,” he said softly, holding him tightly for another moment before letting him go. God, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Blaine looked at him longingly for half a second after they pulled away, and Kurt could see the tears forming again as he swiftly turned and walked back to the group of Dalton boys standing on the stairs behind them. They were quick to comfort him, giving him a pat on the back and murmuring words of encouragement to him.

Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off Blaine’s back, even as he himself was surrounded by his friends. He glanced down at his toes for only a moment as a chorus of “Hello,” and “Hi,” could be heard from some of the girls. Yet, Kurt wasn’t really listening, not even as someone plopped a top hat on his head. Which is, admittedly, fabulous, he thought to himself. He glanced back up, catching Blaine’s eyes where his boyfriend had stopped on the steps and was watching him despite his fellow Warblers headed back toward the bus.

As the bell rang, his friends tried to push in closer, yet Kurt wasn’t satisfied. Blaine looks so sad, and I feel like I’m going to cry. I need a minute. We need a minute alone. “Hang on,” he told everyone, pushing through the group and catching back up to Blaine moments before he made it to the top step. “May I walk you to the bus?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” Blaine answered softly.

Kurt recognized the tears and emotion hiding behind his voice, and he reached out and rubbed a tentative finger up and down the side of Blaine’s hand a few times in comfort. “You know, when I was texting Mercedes last night to tell her I was coming back, she told me that they’re doing a Lady Gaga song in Glee today.”

“’Bad Romance’ again?” Blaine guessed.

“No. ‘Born This Way.’ Apparently, Rachel’s been considering getting a nose job, and they all want to talk her out of it.”

“What?” Blaine asked, laughing a little.

Kurt thought he sounded a bit more like himself. I’m glad I decided to walk with him. We both needed a second to just be us again with no audience. “Yeah. I don’t know. Apparently, some crazy things have gone on since I was gone.” He shrugged. “Who knew? Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

Blaine stopped walking and turned to look at Kurt. “I’m listening,” he told him quietly.

“She asked me if I wanted to participate so she could make me a shirt. Apparently, part of Mr. Schue’s lesson is about accepting the parts of you that you don’t love, and they’re wearing shirts with the thing they have a hard time accepting about themselves printed on the front.”

“So, what did you tell her? Are you going to sing? I know how much you love Lady Gaga.”

Kurt blushed. “Of course, I am. Can you guess what I had her put on my shirt?”

Blaine shook his head. “I can’t imagine. Every part of you is perfect.”

Feeling his cheeks color a darker shade of pink, Kurt shook his head. “You’re sweet. I had to put something, though. So, I had her put ‘Likes boys.’” He heard Blaine suck in a gasp of air and whisper, “Kurt…” To silence him so he could finish, Kurt held out his hand. “I know. I know. With Karofsky coming back, too, it could be dangerous. Still, I feel brave. I have courage.” He made sure to look Blaine directly in the eyes as he said the next part, reaching out one hand to lay it over Blaine’s heart. “Because of you.”

This time, it was Blaine’s turn to blush. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Before I went to Dalton, before I met you and shared that perfect first kiss with you, I didn’t like that part of myself. I felt different, too different, like I would never have a place to belong or someone to love.” He chuckled dryly. “In fact, not too long before we met, I told my dad I just wanted someone’s hand to hold at prom or walk down the hallways with, and I was afraid I’d never find someone. And then you found me, and I realized that I didn’t dislike that part of myself. I loved it because it was the part of me that helped me find the best thing that ever happened to me, Blaine. You.”

There were tears in both their eyes again as they stood for a moment under the warm sun rays, just looking at each other.

Seeing a tear slide down Blaine’s cheek, Kurt reached up to swipe it away with his thumb, cupping Blaine’s cheek for just a moment, feeling him press against his hand. “Thank you for being my courage. I know we’re both unhappy about not being together all the time anymore. We’re going to text each other all day, every day, though, and we’ll see each other every weekend and go on dates. I’m not going to lose you, Blaine Anderson.”

“I’m not going to lose you either.”

“Coming, Anderson?” someone called from the bus.

Blaine hung his head in defeat. “I guess that means I have to go.”

Kurt nodded, pulling Blaine into another tight embrace. “Text me later?” he asked.

“Always. You’re going to kill that song. I just know it. Break a leg.”

Kurt gave him a small half-smile. Watching his boyfriend climb onto the Dalton Academy bus was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. What would I do without Blaine Anderson in my life? he pondered as he watched the shadow of Blaine’s form walk down the aisle and take a seat by the window. Then, his face appeared, and he waved at Kurt until the bus was out of sight. I’m so glad I found him. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I know it’s going to be something wonderful. Courage, Kurt. You can do this. So, Kurt turned on his heel, straightened his shoulders, and held his head high. He was headed back inside to change into his t-shirt for the Glee performance later before heading to class. He thought first, though, that he’d stop by the stage. He felt like he needed to sing before he would be brave enough to proudly proclaim that he “Likes boys.” Courage, Kurt. Courage.

[passerine-writes]

Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

Title: Ink Genre: Fluff Warnings: Reader is a student at Nekoma, Boys volleyball team manager (courtesy of Yamamoto's persistence), Bokuto x Kuroo Word count: 1850

SOULMATE AU! IN WHICH YOURE ABLE TO TALK TO YOUR SOULMATE BY WRITING ON YOUR ARM ONCE YOU TURN 16, UNTIL YOU MEET HOWEVER YOU CANT SAY YOUR NAME

It was a month after I turned 16 and I still haven't heard anything from my soulmate. It was fairly early in the year so maybe they just had a later birthday. But that little voice of self doubt still rattled in my mind, saying that maybe I just didn't have a soulmate. I audibly sighed, why did I have to have such an early birthday?

Hey, I'm hoping that maybe I just have an early birthday compared to you. Have a nice day or night.

I capped my pen before rolling over and forcing myself to finally sleep.

——————

This cycle went on for months, my birthday being in mid July giving me no hope. Until early December struck. I woke up to a warm, tingling sensation on my arm. I flicked on my bedside lamp and saw a word neatly printed on my arm.

Hello.

My heart skipped a beat as I scrambled around to find a pen.

Hey, it's nice to finally hear from you.

Sorry about that, I saw all your messages, I just turned 16. Thank you, by the way.

My heart speeding up at the simple thank you.

You're welcome! Happy Birthday!

Thank you. So I'm assuming you're from Japan?

How do you if I'm not just fluent in Japanese and really in a separate country?

After a moment of silence, I realized my sarcasm didn't translate well.

Sorry, sarcasm. It's my only way of calming my nerves, I get sarcastic. But yeah, I'm from Japan.

Okay, thank you for clarifying before I asked my obnoxious friend if it was sarcasm or not. Am I making you nervous?

A bit but it's nothing I can't handle. I take it by how formal you're being you're not all that nervous?

Quite the opposite, I'm a rather blunt person so I'm used to texting and writing formally.

Nice, then I guess opposites really do attract.

——————

Over the next week there wasn't a day we didn't talk. We found out a lot about each other, along with the fact that we both held part in a volleyball team. I hadn't worked up the courage to ask him what school he went to but he didn't bring it up either. Once I got sick though, everything seemed to be going downhill.

Hey, love. Sorry if I don't respond much today, I caught a nasty cold that's been going around soon. I'll write you when I can.

It's okay, feel better. Get lots of rest and drink fluids. Don't forget medicine.

This man knows me too well I swear.

I will, I will, jeez. Thank you.

When I woke up a few hours later I saw his responses waiting on my arm.

Okay, good.

How are you feeling?

Ah, so that's what I woke up to.

I could be worse, sorry I just woke up. What are you up to today?

About to head to our practice match against Nekoma.

My blood ran cold. I could've seen him today. I took a few minutes to process this and let the little white lie seep into the ink.

Sorry I was getting juice and snacks. But that's nice that sounds fun.

I guess. What school do you go to?

Are you sure you want to know?

My nerves were rising in my throat and I was trying my hardest not to be sarcastic so there wouldn't be any miscommunication but god it was hard.

Why wouldn't I want to know?

I don't know. Sorry I was trying not to be sarcastic and it slipped a bit.

How come you're nervous?

It's nothing, really.

I have to go to the practice match, I'll write to you afterwards.

I knew he wasn't mad but part of my worry filled mind was telling me other wise.

Just by the writing on my arm I could tell it was a fairly intense match, the sweat on his arm smeared the ink and made it a smidge harder to read. But it was still there. Hours passed with the nerves eating away at me as the match continued on until I felt that familiar warmth on my forearm.

Hey, the practice match just ended.

How did you do?

We won, just barely. But why were you nervous?

It's nothing really, I'm better now.

Are you sure?

Everything in me was saying to tell him no. Not to worry him over something so futile but my hand was moving faster than my mind.

Just dumb insecurities.

About?

About you. Us. Everything really. I go to Nekoma High School and we could've met today and originally I felt horrible because I want to meet you. But then I started overthinking. What if when we meet you realize I'm not actually meant for you? Or you just simply don't want me? Or I'm not enough? Sorry, that all just word vomited out.

It took a moment before I got a response and when I did, it was the one word I didn't expect.

Y/N?

My heart stopped beating for a second, nothing felt real.

We've met before, briefly but we've met because of volleyball. There's no reason to overthink, I already know a fair bit about you and my feelings have been growing every second I talk to you. Y/N please say something.

I'm sorry for overthinking, I'll be okay. How did you figure out my name?

I asked the captain of your team.

I'll have to ask him your name so it's fair.

Okay, just please don't be disappointed.

Why would I be disappointed?

I guess the same reasons as you stated.

It's okay, I promise I won't be disappointed.

——————

A few weeks had passed and I was feeling much better. My soulmate, who's name Kuroo refuses to tell me because he is plotting something, has written to me everyday and vice versa.

"Kuroo, where are you dragging me off to?" The volleyball captain dragging me outside on the weekend. He wanted to spend time with his soulmate, Bokuto but he didn't want Bokuto's best friend to be lonely. So here I am.

"We're going to meet at the park and do whatever from there."

"Of course you have no plan." I muttered as we walked down the street.

"TETSUBROOO!" A two toned haired owl boy screamed while running down to us, a boy from the Fukurodani volleyball team I had seen a few times. I was horrible with names so I didn't stand a chance remembering his however he's very pretty, his eyes especially alluring. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at him.

"KOUTABRO!" The captains screamed running to each other. I slowly walked next to the quiet boy.

"Hey, Y/N." He stated, in a placid tone.

"I don't remember telling you my name." My sarcasm through the roof, I never told him my name directly or told him that he could call me my given name.

"Sorry if I disappoint you, soul mate." My heart stopped.

"Sorry for not picking up on it, Kuroo refused to tell me your name. Even though he knows I'm horrible with names, so it was a horrible effort." Sarcastic remorse dropped from my voice.

"Akaashi Keiji, so how come you're nervous?" His body now facing mine fully, his finger tips dancing around in front of my fingers, debating to grab them or not.

"I- you're here and all of my fears are happening and I just hope you're not let down about me being your soulmate." His hand finally grabbed my own, the two boys from earlier long gone to who knows where.

"Hey, I'm no where near disappointed, I’m very happy I finally got to meet you. You're not letting anybody down, I promise." I bit my lip and nodded as we started walking down the path.

"I'm not disappointed either." A hue of pink dusted his cheeks at the statement. "Would you want to go back to either of our places? I'm okay with whichever."

"We can go to mine, it's not a far walk." I nodded with a simple smile. The walk, like he said, wasn't long or far, it wasn't even a full ten minutes when we got into his front door. "My parents aren't home right now, they get out around 7." There was no suggestion from being alone, I don't know how to explain it but I felt safe around him. We made our way up to his bedroom, or at least what I presumed to be the route, but was proven right in my theory when I saw a bedroom that just screamed 'Keiji'. Without waiting another moment, I wrapped my arms around him, just embracing him as I had been longing to for years. His arms hesitantly but tightly wrapped around me, holding me snug against his chest.

"Can we cuddle?" He nodded and guided me over to his bed, he gently laid on his side, my body following suit and tucking myself into his chest again. This time pulling my face far enough away to admire his own. After a few minutes he shifted a bit and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"What?" He asked in small voice, my face flushing at the thought of being caught admiring.

"You're really pretty." I whispered to my soulmate, the rouge tint of his cheeks spreading to his ears as he struggled with words, his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowing together. "What's wrong, love?" His mask coming back up.

"Oh, nothing." His stoic face returning but his eyes held so much emotion.

"Hey, Keiji, you don't have to do that with me. I'll listen." His eyebrows knitting together again before he found the right way to word whatever he wanted.

"I just don't think I'm that pretty." It was my turn for my eyebrows to furrow together. "It's because for as long as I've known Bokuto, people have always tried to use me because they want him or they want to have a higher social status by being associated with the volleyball team that goes to nationals every year. So I'm not used to people genuinely thinking I'm pretty and not having a motive." My face softened at the statement.

"Thank you for opening up, I know it's hard to but thank you for trusting me. And they don't know what they're missing, you're a great person and I can't believe people don't see that. But you are pretty, you're very handsome and attractive." One of my hands lightly cupped his face, his cheek leaning into the warmth of my palm as my thumb glided back and forth. He smiled lightly, just a small upturn of his lips as he pressed a sweet kiss to my hand.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

[letswritesomenovels]

My Revision Plan

I’ve been posting a lot about finishing a first draft of something new. So I thought it might be helpful if I also included my plans about what to do next. 

Step One: Preserve the Draft

I work in Scrivener, so my first step is to compile, save, and preserve my draft. For me, this means I’m:

Capturing a snapshot of the current version of my chapters in Scrivener, so I can keep editing the main ‘manuscript’ files without losing access to the current version.

Exporting and saving the entire manuscript as “[TITLE] - First Draft - July 2020″ so that as I finish further revisions, I’ll always know which version this one is. 

Emailing the draft to myself, saving it in iCloud, and printing it. Whatever it takes to ensure its safe keeping. This way, no matter what happens--if my computer falls into a pool and is destroyed--my entire first draft of this book will be safe somewhere. 

This way, I can revise and edit and generally make a mess of things again without having to worry that anything I do going forward is going to affect the contents or completeness of my first draft. 

Step Two: Second Sketches 

I don’t want to dive into the editing process just yet, so before doing a serious re-read or re-plotting my entire book, I’m going to set about re-sketching my settings and characters. 

In my first drafts, I treated my settings and characters as flexible. When I realized something about them wasn’t working, I changed that thing and kept going. Events changed locations, buildings changed distance from one another, Three of my characters had abrupt job changes in chapter ten, when I realized I could remove an extraneous plot and weave their storylines into a more central plot by doing so. Somewhere immediately after I tell the reader my protagonist has glasses, I forgot to ever mention them again. 

This means my initial character and setting sketches are all--well, not useless, but not quite useful anymore either. Now that I’ve figured out where and what things and people need to be in order to make the story work, I’m writing down new “character/setting rules” to guide me through my first revision. I want to make them consistent. 

For settings, this means I’m going to go through and decide on:

A “map” of the locations of the story and figure out exactly where things are in relation to one another

The layouts of individual settings 

What specific places look, smell, and sound like 

The “rules” of the world 

For characters, this means I’m going to go through and decide on their:

physical characteristics

personality and backstory

relationships both with other characters and the world around them

character arcs: their wants, their fears, their internal conflicts, and how they’re supposed to be growing and changing throughout the novel

And if I decide my protagonist does wear glasses, I’m going to make sure she’s wearing them throughout the entire story. 

Step Three: Read

Writing Advice

In the next few weeks, I’m going to read and reread books and blogs on writing. I am going to soak it all up. I’m going to learn or remind myself about what makes a story good. Refine my knowledge of writing craft. These are the ideas that are going to help me make my revised draft better than my first one.

Fun books!

I’m also going to read for fun, especially the books I was avoiding because they were in a similar genre/category to the one I was drafting. I want to know how good the “competition” is, and also see those “writing rules” I’ve been reading about in writing advice books/blogs in action. 

The First Draft

Finally, I’m going to crack open my own book. 

This is the hardest part of a revision: critically reading what I’ve written so I can prepare to tear it to pieces and rebuild it. 

Oof.

For this, I recommend changing the font, either printing it out or putting it on an e-reader, settling down in your favorite spot to read, and reading it in one go. I’m probably going to print mine out and put it in a binder. This will help me see it with the eye of a reader/editor instead of an author, and hopefully help me put some emotional distance between me and the work I’ve done. 

I’m going to keep a notebook nearby and take notes about things that are working, things that aren’t working, ideas for changes, and other stray observations (like words I’m using too often, or where I’m repeating myself, or abandoned plot points, etc.). 

Step Four: Re-Outline

This step itself has many steps.

Step One: Identify the core idea of the story. In clear terms, write out in one or two sentences what this story is about, English-major style. ie. “This story is about a girl finding the courage to pursue the life she wants, not the one her parents have planned for her. Her struggles are reflected back on her when she encounters the ghost of a princess who cares so much what history thinks of her, she’s letting its opinion turn her into a literal monster.” 

Step Two: Outline the events in the story as it currently exists. 

Step Three: Evaluate how well it conveys the core idea, and how the current structure works. Identify:

the purpose of various scenes (ie. inciting incident) 

Extraneous scenes/plots/characters

Plot points that should be in the story but are missing

Key moments of character arcs

Events that support the core idea

Events that either don’t support or work in opposition to the core idea

Step Four: Rebuild the outline so that the story has a strong structure that supports the core idea. 

Step Five: Share

I know I’m going to struggle with figuring out exactly how to rebuild my story, so I’m going to share both my first draft and my unfinished plan with my writing friends. I’m going to ask them for their ideas and advice. With their feedback, I’m going to solidify my plan for my new outline, hopefully a bit more confident that it’s the right one. 

I know not all people have a group of writing buddies they can easily do this with. If you don’t have a critique group, don’t sweat it. It helps and it’s worth an attempt to try to find one, but it’s not a vital step.

Step Six: Revise 

Finally, I’m going to go through my work chapter by chapter: editing scenes, trashing scenes, and writing new scenes entirely from scratch until I have a manuscript that’s hopefully much better than the first.

If I revise this book like I did my last one, I’ll probably polish the chapters as I move through them, so that when i’m done, some chapters will be on their twelfth drafts, some will be on their second, but overall it’ll be the best version of the story I’m currently able to write. 

--

It’s a lot, and it seems like a very daunting process from my current standpoint, but finishing the first draft seemed daunting too, just a few weeks ago, and I got through that process. With time and effort, I’ll get through this one too. 

[shoutocakie]

Hi! I’m a big fan of your work and i follow both Teenage Love and Calm before the Storm. Both stories are actually outside what i usually read but I am greatly satisfied that I started to read them because both stories are amazing in that it both tackles issues that are more or less taboo in society. For teenage love, i wouldn’t say its romanticized because they clearly know the repercussions of their relationship and forgive me but i love how scandalous and fun and pure their feelings are for each other. Whereas for Calm Before the Storm, its focuses on the relationship of mental health and the relationships we form outside ourselves - i get why one comment mentioned about it being reminiscent of Murakami, i think its the raw sadness in both murakami and your story that points to the similarities. Moreover, i love your charaterization of Shouto, its a perfect balance of what the fandom has conceptualized - there is the smart, strong yet ever oblivious and socially awkward Shouto and on one side there is the calm, broody, but also teasing and playful Shouto- and you add on something more to his character that makes it your own. I wish i can tell you exactly what that “something” is but its more of a feeling like when i read work i know its yours because your Shouto has your own vibe in it. And it just makes him more alive? If there ever will be a time where you might take requests, i hope to know more about your Shouto Headcanons. Thank you so much for all the goodness you bring!

T____T Thank you Anon! Now I know why other artists add those crazy gifs to show their indescribable feelings when they get beautiful comments!!! Literally, I printed this and put it in my journal because I'm so touched and I want to remember ten years from now that this is what I was doing and someone else was enjoying the experience with me! I'm really glad to hear that Teenage Love doesn't come off as creepy(?) because when the idea first crossed my mind it made me realllllly uncomfortable until I put myself in that position and was like "...oh, nevermind. He's just a sweetheart and age gaps are social constructs... huh....." And omg there's nothing to forgive! I wrote it a little scandalous to MAKE it fun. I hope their affection for each other balances it all out though~~~ >__< God he's so cute I just can't even anymore... I also really hope I can bring some balance in the later chapters of Calm Before the Storm between the pain and the healing. I think the hardest part of writing that story has been that I'm writing a lot of it from experience, and knowing that trauma begets trauma and how over time it compiles to break you down just makes me feel really worried for Shou... Like I know we don't have canon of him as an adult, and I know he's trying to recover and things are looking better, but all it takes is the perfect storm of bad conditions to throw someone with a history back into the abyss... ALSO OMG THANK YOU KYAAAAAA HE'S SUCH A COMPLEX CHARACTER AND I'M SO HAPPY TO HEAR A READER THINKS I'M DOING HIM JUSTICE T_____T "you add on something more to his character that makes it your own. I wish i can tell you exactly what that “something” is but its more of a feeling like when i read work i know its yours because your Shouto has your own vibe in it. And it just makes him more alive?" I don't think there could ever be a more heartwarming, deeply gratifying comment than this T_______________________________T Thank you so much <3 Maybe one day I'll manage head canons hehe. Currently I have like 7 fics of him on the go, each focusing on a different side of his personality, so pinning headcanons down sounds harder than writing all those fics combined!!! heheheheh Thanks again!! You really made my whole week brighter! (And I've really been struggling lately, so you can't imagine the courage it's giving me!)

[melioramercy]

i didn’t mean to, but i know it still hurts

spencer reid x nonbinary partner (afab) (they/them/theirs)

in which spencer accidentally misgenders his partner

this is my first fic ! how groovy is that ?

note: misgendering is defined as the following: [to] refer to (someone, especially a transgender person) using a word, especially a pronoun or form of address, that does not correctly reflect the gender with which they identify.

if you’d like to chat about gender (respectfully) my asks are open xx ruby

dating spencer reid was wonderful. truly, you had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky. he was kind without trying, attentive to your needs, and would never do anything to hurt your feelings. not on purpose, anyway. but when he did, he was quick to apologise, curling up on the couch with you and kissing your head. he knew you typically brooded in silence, choosing to let what was bothering you wash over you in full before attempting to sort anything out. this way, you didn’t say anything you didn’t mean. you two always sorted out conflicts peacefully, and only ended up crying because you loved each other so much and you never wanted to be mad at the other. because of this, he was more than happy to sit with you in silence, weathering your storm together.

spencer didn’t know you were nonbinary when you first met. that was ten months ago, back when you only knew him as the cute, clumsy guy who frequented the same park as you. he liked to play chess, you learned, while he noticed you practicing complex yoga poses just a stone’s throw past him. the two of you maintained a respectful distance from one another, though you snuck glances at him, admiring the way his tongue poked out between his lips, and how quickly his hands darted around the board. he never noticed you staring, the same way you didn’t notice his eyes bashfully skating over your figure, sucking in a breath as your shirt rode up, revealing your colourful sports bra and soft tummy.  

you’d existed in the same space, bearing witness to one another’s leisure activities for nearly four months before you interacted beyond a slight smile or shy wave. some days, he sat propped against a tree, reading a thick book or sketching. you were physically closer than ever when he sat under the tree, but you couldn’t have felt further apart. on the days he had a notebook in front of him, pencil sliding across the paper, his gaze never wavered, and you couldn't help but secretly hope he was drawing a portrait of you. spurred on by your daydream, you decided to try out more skillful poses, subconsciously trying to break his concentration, but no dice.  

it wasn’t until you fell out of a handstand and face-planted that the force field between you two broke. he jumped up from his spot under the tree and ran over to you, wiping dirt off your forehead and holding your face as he checked for any scrapes or bruises. you hoped his warm hands couldn’t feel the way your cheeks burned as he scrutinized you. you let out a breathy laugh mixed with a gasp as you realized how close he was. from here, you could see the green around his pupils, blooming into a gorgeous hazel. the wind teased the curls you’d longed to run your hands through. as if jolted by an unseen presence, he realized how close he was to you, quickly dropping his hands from your face and pulling away.

“uh, sorry,” he said, brushing off his pants as he stood.

“no, no, really, it’s okay. thank you. i usually practice my handstands at home, with lots of cushions around.” damn, he was so cute. you tugged your shirt down, suddenly feeling self-conscious in your tight, printed leggings, toes wriggling into the grass.

you stared at each other, unsure of what to say. was it wrong to want his hands back on your face, kissing you like his life depended on it?

“i’m y/n,” you offered.

“spencer.”

“well, it’s lovely to meet you, spencer. thank you again.” shit, was this really going to end here?

“yeah, uhm, you too. y/n.” the words brought a smile to your face, and you loved the way your name fit in his mouth.

he rocked on his feet, as if he were working up the courage to say something.

“okay... bye.” and just like that, he turned to leave. no, no no no no. fuck, think, y/n, think!

“hey!” you shouted, loud enough to startle him. as soon as he turned around, you were blurting out, “do you wanna go out sometime?”

***

you told spencer about your pronouns, along with your gender identity, on the date you’d scheduled for the following weekend, pending his schedule didn’t change. he didn’t offer up any information about his job, or what made his schedule so wonky, and you didn’t ask. you wanted to know anything you could about the man you’d seen at the park so many times, but you didn't want to push him.

you’d agreed to take a walk in the park before heading to a nearby restaurant for dinner. you wanted to give him an easy out, in case he changed his mind about you. you wore a simple top with linen pants and sandals, while he wore a more casual version of what you’d seen him wearing before. slacks, a button-down sans sweater vest, and converse. you met up at the tree you’d seen him reading under before, savouring the way he complimented you. beginning to walk the path, you worked up the nerve to confess your truth.

“so,” you began. “i’ve gotta get something out of the way.” you saw a flash of panic in his eyes, opting to continue before he could ask any questions.

“i’m nonbinary.”

he stopped walking, letting out a breath before turning to you. fuck, you thought. this is it. he’s gonna be scared off just like everyone else before him. considering how long you'd hoped for this moment, this would be the hardest loss of them all. but you couldn't compromise yourself, in the same way you wouldn't be able to change his mind if he thought your gender identity was too much baggage.

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t see the smile on his face. you also realized neither of you had said anything since your initial admission.

“spencer?” his name sounded like a plea, with a tinge of hope lining your voice.

“okay.”

“okay?” that’s it?

“what pronouns would you like me to refer to you with?”

the question was one you’d heard before, but it sounded so much... better coming from him. you felt a flutter in your heart, a smile budding on your face as he slipped his hand into yours.

“y/n," you reintroduced yourself. "they/them/theirs.”

he nodded at that, beginning to walk again. you didn’t expect him to speak again, and you definitely weren't expecting what he said next.

“spencer,” he said. “he/him/his.”

you squeezed his hand, the flutter in your heart replaced with something different, something... warm. you really hoped this would last.

***  

ten months later, you were sat at the kitchen table, having breakfast for dinner, with your boyfriend recalling some conversation he’d had with the team.

“and i told morgan, y/n always stays up waiting for me on the couch, but sometimes she falls asleep and-”

he immediately froze, not missing the way you flinched behind your coffee mug. for a second, he thought he should’ve just kept talking, quickly correcting himself and continuing with the story. he knew you disliked when people made a big deal out of messing up your pronouns, but he couldn’t help himself.

“y/n, i-”

you were quick to cut him off.

“spence, it’s okay. it was an accident.” your voice didn’t reveal your hurt, but spencer didn't miss the look in your eyes, the way your brow furrowed as you tried to keep his slip up from getting to you. it wasn't personal. it was an accident. but it still hurt.

“y/n, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he started rambling, leaving you no room to interrupt. “i’m sorry, i know your pronouns. i would never misgender you on purpose or do anything to hurt you.” he reached across the table, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tightly. “you’re my y/n/n, my beanie. i love you so much. i’m sorry.”

he'd started weeping at the initial mess up, but now he was fully crying, harder than you'd ever seen. it scared you more than it confused you. why was he so upset?  

“spence, baby, it’s okay,” you begged him to believe you, but he only dropped his head against your hands, his tears wetting your skin. “spencer,” you said, more insistently. 

you sighed, realizing he wasn’t letting up. you pulled your hands out from under his head, hoping he’d look up at you, but he dropped his head onto the table instead. what was up with him? seriously, people called you “she” all the time, and it was rarely malicious. you were used to it, but he was always bothered, correcting people so you didn’t have to. he really was the perfect boyfriend.  

abruptly, you stood up, grabbing his arm and pulling with all your weight. he gave in, letting you drag him to the couch. you sat down, the worn leather squeaking as you tucked your feet under yourself. you tugged him down to sit next to you, cradling his head against your chest like he'd done with you so many times before when you were upset. you kissed his forehead and stroked his hair until his breathing slowed down.

“you okay, baby?” your words were met with a murmur, but it was better than nothing. “spence?”

you tilted his head so you could look each other in the eye.

“what’s going on, lovey?”

it was his turn to sigh, his nostrils flaring as his big ole brain searched for the right words.

“i’m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it, but i know it still hurts. your pronouns are part of you, and i’ve seen first-hand how much it bugs you when someone refers to you as ‘she’ or ‘her.’ i know you take it personally, and i don't blame you. i know i'll never understand how much it affects you, or why, and i never, ever, want to be the person who makes you feel that way.”

“i know, spence, it’s okay.”

“but it’s not, y/n!” his words were frantic, but he took a deep breath to try and calm himself. “i’m sorry. i just, i’ve never messed up before.”

so that’s what is was. god, on the one hand, you were grateful he took it so... personally? no. you couldn’t put your finger on it, but the fact that he cared so much made you feel loved, and seen. he knew how much it hurt you, and it hurt him just as much.

“baby, thank you.”

he looked you right in the eye, confused as to why you were thanking him.

“thank you, for loving me. for being you. spence, i... i’ve never had anyone who’s cared so much. you’re right, it does hurt, but i love you. i know you didn’t mean any harm, and i know you would never do it on purpose. you don’t have to beat yourself up, okay?”

he still seemed upset, so you reached around, hooking your pinky with his. his lip quirked up at that, and he adjusted so he could press his palm to yours, entwining your fingers.

“i love you, beanie.”

“i love you, too, baby. so so much.”

[saiilorstars]

Planning is Everything

***One-Shot*** // Masterlist to other stories

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer x OFC

Summary: With the holidays around the corner, everyone starts making their plans to celebrate with their loved ones. Spencer has trouble making those plans when the one person he wants to plan with doesn't really know about his feelings. Maybe things can change when Penelope unexpectedly brings him to Aitana's house for a full day of Christmas decorations.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @maaaaarveeeeel @anotherunreadblog @stareyedplanet​​

[If you would like to be added to this OC’s taglist please let me know!]

Pronunciation of the OC’s name sounds like “eye-ta-na”

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~  0 ~  0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~  0 ~ 0 ~

The holidays were thought to be the best time of the year. Spencer supposed it was true if you had everybody around for the period. He heard countless plans that everyone at work were making. JJ of course was planning everything around her boys—she and Will were taking them out God knew where but it would be amazing. Emily and Luke had a few of those holiday-themed dates around the city. Matt was the same as JJ: it was all about the kids. Rossi differed in that he only had his wife to worry about. Tara and Penelope seemed to love the Christmas events in the city, they were out together whenever they could.

He...he couldn't find the energy to partake in any of those plans. He would like to but he had other places he would rather be, places he would really rather be.

No one was surprised when it one day slipped from him. They knew exactly who he wanted to spend all these Christmas days with. She was the only one who hadn't figured it out.

Aitana Serrano could be one of their best profilers but when it came to their own Dr. Spencer Reid, she was quite clueless. She really couldn't see it. And it wasn't like Spencer was a master at hiding it either. His skills at hiding his expressions and watching his body language took a dive when she was around. The good thing is that she was always around him anyways. She liked being around him and the reason for that wasn't that hard to figure out. Thankfully, the two had a very good set of friends watching out for them. They were always looking for ways to nudge them a little closer to each other.

And what better time than the holidays?

"Hey," Penelope tapped the back of Spencer's head, startling him out of his thoughts. He had paperwork set in front of him and he thought he would be able to finish them before going home. "I'm stopping by Aitana's tomorrow morning. She's getting her Christmas tree tomorrow and we're going to decorate it."

"Sounds like fun," Spencer smiled at her.

Penelope almost snorted at the little sad puppy smile that it was. "Don't be dumb, Wonder Boy, and come with me."

"What? No, no, Aitana invited you and..." He didn't want to just invite himself over if Aitana didn't even want him there. "It's your plans."

"Please, I doubt she would mind my plus one if it's little ole you," Penelope winked. "We leave by 10!" She wiggled her fingers goodbye as she headed out. Knowing him, he would need the whole night to get into the idea.

Maybe he did.

Spencer knew that Aitana wouldn't be angry, per say, if he dropped by with Penelope but comiing unannounced wasn't his favorite way to do things. In a perfect world, he would've had enough courage, enough creativity, to plan something out for just the two of them. She was a huge Christmas lover and would give anything to be the one who surprised her with the best Christmas-themed date. But those were just wishes. Reality was a whole other thing and he would have to stick with what he had.

And what he had with Aitana was only friendship.

~0~

Aitana was pulling out the branches of her Christmas tree when she heard the expected knocks on her door. "Come in!" she yelled, rather strained as she pulled apart two branches. She was working on the last part of the tree, the very top, and for some reason it was the hardest.

"We're here, we're here!" Penelope bustled into the living room with Spencer, both carrying bags in their hands. "Sorry, bit the snow makes everything and everyone go slower! And I brought a plus one, hope that's okay!" She cast a smirk at Spencer. Even with that confidence she boasted that it would really be alright with Aitana, Spencer still held his breath until Aitana gave the confirmation.

Aitana was standing on a step stool when they met her in the living room. Spencer couldn't think of a better way to start his day when he spotted her. She was entirely focused on a pesky branch. The snowy day outside hadn't interrupted her one bit. Her short curly hair was braided with a green ribbon to adorn it. Her blouse was a bit disheveled from her work but Spencer could still see the adorable little reindeer print it had. He was sure that her pants were only black because she couldn't find a matching set. She always pulled the best things out of her closet. She had good taste for everything.

Aitana beamed when she saw the pair but Penelope thought she was a very smart cookie who knew that said beam was mostly because of her plus one.

"Spencer!" she exclaimed. "Of course it's alright!"

Penelope's smirk on Spencer turned smug in record time. "Thought so."

He flushed. "R-really?"

Aitana was grinning ear to ear. "Yeah! I would have called you but I wasn't sure if you want to come over and decorate a tree...I didn't know if you thought it would be kind of boring."

"No," he said quickly. "Definitely not."

"Perfect! Oh, and I brought the stuff," Penelope gestured to the bags in their hands.

"Oh thanks," Aitana hopped off the steps and came to take them. "I would have gotten them myself but I had to wait for the Christmas tree to be delivered."

"No problem," Penelope said as she handed the bags over. Spencer did the same but it ultimately was too much and they had to bring the bags to the couch instead. Afterwards, both Penelope and Spencer were able to get rid of their heavy jackets. Aitana had her living room as warm and comfy as possible.

"So I set up the branches already," Aitana pulled back a few steps to motion towards the tree. "What do you guys think? I went with an artificial one. It's just easier and saves me a lot of money for years to come." She'd gotten a decent sized frosted tree with pine-cones and berries. "I mean, I know it's still fake but it looks real, doesn't it? The branches and all...?" She stuck the tip of her index nail between her teeth while she waited for the verdict.

"You know back when artificial trees were developed, they were made out of goose feathers dyed green?" Spencer said, figuring it would help her see that her tree looked much better.

On his other side, Penelope was looking at him like he'd lost it. Why would he say that?

Fortunately, Aitana just laughed. "Really?"

He nodded. "And then when they were made in America, the company actually used the same machinery they used to make toilet brushes but they were dyed green too."

Penelope wanted to smack her forehead. He just kept going and going...

Aitana's fingernail came back to her teeth in her nervous antic. "So...is my tree better then?"

Spencer smiled at her. "It's beautiful."

She beamed and clapped her hands together. "Great! So we can start!" She grabbed one of the bags and headed for the tree. She set the bag down on the floor and took a seat in front of it. "I went with the nude colors this year. I thought it would look nice with the whole frost thing I got going on here."

"It'll look wonderful, darling!" Penelope exclaimed then shoved another bag to Spencer, motioning with her head (in a manner that Spencer wondered if it pained her bones) to go to Aitana. She was already busy pulling out all the ornament boxes and mesh ribbons on the floor. When he finally took the bag and went to where Aitana was, Penelope dilly-dallied by the remaining bag. "Oh shoot!"

Aitana looked up from a box she'd been about to open. "What's wrong?"

Penelope was looking at her phone. "Plumbing problem in the apartment. I have to...I have to go, I'm so sorry."

Spencer raised an eyebrow at her. "It was fine when I picked you up..."

Penelope's smile was tight, almost snapping at him not to go poking holes into her fabulous explanation. "I can't plan these sort of things, can I?" Spencer's expression said she definitely could and would. "Aitana, I'm sorry—"

"No, no, it's alright," Aitana stood up from the floor. "Do you want us to take you back—"

"No! I'm good. I would rather see your marvelous tree picture when it's all done! I'm sure Spencer wouldn't mind helping you, right?"

Spencer wouldn't even bother getting upset for this trick. It was on him for not seeing it coming sooner. "Of course not..." But he would definitely have a talk with her for this later.

Penelope was pretty happy when she left, barely making it seem like she had that plumbing problem.

"Just you and me," Aitana said to Spencer when they heard the door close. "You sure you want to spend your day with me?"

"Yeah," Spencer said wholeheartedly. "Unless...unless you don't want to...?"

Aitana cocked her head to the side, her expression incredulous. "Of course I do! Let's do the ribbons, yeah?" She picked up a shiny dark brown mesh ribbon. "I was thinking I'd put it on the tree and sort of twist them around the branches. Makes it really nice afterwards."

"Yeah, of course," Spencer motioned her to start so he could see exactly how she wanted it.

She had to come up the step stool to show him how to start from the top. They carefully wrapped the ribbon around the tree until Aitana felt like it was secured properly. She then surprised Spencer with another mesh ribbon. It was cream colored with white sparkles. She giggled with his reaction. "It's just two of them, I promise."

Shortly afterwards, they opened up the boxes of ornaments. There were glittery dark browns, cream colors, and dazzling whites inside. Some baubles were larger than others, some seemed a little excessive. Spencer shyly pointed that out but Aitana assured him that it would all come together on the tree.

"I like things to show," she said as started putting some of the baubles on the bottom. "I don't mean excessive but, you know, I want it to be seen. What do you usually do for your tree?"

Spencer had started on the other side of the tree but still stood where he was able to see her. He was being as gentle as he could with her glass baubles. They had little things inside like autumn leaves and stems. It was something truly Aitana. "I don't really put one up."

"What!?" Aitana sounded as if she'd heard blasphemy. "What do you mean!?"

Spencer shrugged. "I live alone and...I don't really have a lot of room for one. Especially one this big," he made a gesture at hers.

Aitana chuckled for a moment. "Yeah, okay, your bookshelves do take up a lot of space...but not even one mini tree? You know they make small ones but not like the 3ft ones."

"I don't know..." Spencer didn't know how to put 'I don't know what to be festive about' in a sentence that didn't make him sound gloomy.

"Don't go Grinch on me, Spencer Reid," Aitana came up to his side. "Maybe after this, we can look for a small tree for you."

The idea of them spending yet another moment together left him with a warm face, especially when he realized it would a moment together where it was about him. Aitana smiled at his pensive face—at least that's what she thought it was—and wondered what type of tree he would like. She would do her best to find one that matched his apartment's style. They spent the rest of the time putting the ornaments around the tree and discussing what type of tree he would like.

"And you can pick out the color scheme for your baubles!" Aitana exclaimed. "It's my favorite part of the whole process: choosing what colors you want for the baubles. There's just so many, you know?"

"Mhm," Spencer nodded. "Did you know that the first baubles are thought to have originated from the idea of blown egg shells?"

Aitana's eyes widened. "Don't kid with me..."

"I'm not," Spencer raised his hands in front of him.

She shook her head with a laugh. "Do not stand there and tell me that my baubles came from egg shells!"

"Well, it's thought to be!"

Aitana set her hands on her hips, raising her head to meet his gaze. "Egg shells?"

"Yes."

"Blown egg shells?"

"Aha."

Aitana wanted to stay serious but her lips were quirking into a smile and before she knew it, she lost against another laugh. "Spencer, I just can't believe half the things you say sometimes!"

"I wouldn't lie to you," Spencer said, meaning it entirely.

Aitana went for one of the last baubles, a large one, and came up beside him. "Yeah?" She looked at him while her fingers tried leaving the hook of her bauble hanging on a branch. "So you would tell me if my decorations were bad?" She meant it as a joke but Spencer still nodded with his most serious face.

"But I wouldn't have to because you always have a good eye for decorating. You'd never decorate something badly."

She smiled at his kind words. Doing so and getting lost with his own smile, her fingers slipped over the bauble's hook. "Oh no!" She dove to catch it at the same time that Spencer did. They ended up grabbing it with their hands over each other's. "Nice catch!" Aitana exclaimed when they straightened up on their feet.

"Yeah, uh, I never had those..." Spencer flushed with the realization their hands hadn't moved apart. He was never a handsy person but right now he couldn't find anything better than this. Her hands were like soft feathers cushioning his skin. Aitana was smiling at him, albeit shyly if he'd paid a little more attention. In his defense, he was trying to make sure his hands weren't as clammy as he thought they were.

"Should we, uh, put the bauble on the tree?" Aitana timidly asked him. She knew he wasn't that thrilled with closeness so, as reluctant as she was, she pulled her hands from the bauble.

"Where did you, uh...?" Spencer looked back at the three.

"Right there," she pointed to the branch she'd been working on. She watched him fondly as he set the bauble right where she wanted it and on the first try. "You're pretty good at this," she said afterwards. "Might ask you to do this with me every year." Wouldn't that be nice? It would be very nice. She had luck this year that Penelope had taken him with her this year because she would've never had the courage to ask Spencer herself. She was afraid she'd bore him to death with this nonsense of hers.

"I'd like that," Spencer surprised her with his words. He was very aware of what he'd said for that he found it hard to look at her for a few seconds.

"You wouldn't get bored?" she asked, pretending to work with a bauble that most certainly did not need work on. "Because I know my decorations take a long time. I take it very serious, as you can see. My brothers always did the tree really quickly when we were younger. Thought they were the fastest decorators too."

"The world record for the fastest tree decorating was 36.89 seconds," Spencer said, "Sharon Juantuah in Essex, UK had a 100 lights, 2 lengths of tinsel and 15 baubles when she was done."

"Really?" Aitana raised an eyebrow. "Only 15 baubles?"

Spencer nodded. "Yup."

"Mm, I like having more..."

"And it looks wonderful."

Aitana brought her fingernail to her teeth, cheeks once again threatening to turn pink. "You're too sweet, you know that?"

It was Spencer's turn to blush. She thought he was sweet. He was actually saying the right things to her. It gave him a sense of hope that maybe one day he might actually say the right thing to get a date with her.

When all the baubles were set accordingly and after Aitana did a quick check to make sure that no two colors were right next to each other, she went back to the bags. She soon realized that Penelope had left her own additions in the bag. She should've known with that woman. "Penelope left me a couple things," she pulled out a box of pine sticks. "It may be an artificial tree but it's going to smell like a real one. You want to put those in?"

"Yeah," Spencer came to take the box and returned to the tree.

"Oh my God, Pen," he heard her say afterwards with a soft laugh to follow. He looked back to see Aitana taking out a mistletoe from the bag. She was shaking her head. "What does she think I'm going to be doing these days?"

Spencer preferred not to voice those thoughts. He cleared his throat and offered her an awkward shrug before he put all of his focus on the pine cone sticks.

"If I don't put this up, I won't hear the end of it," Aitana decided it was best to just go with it. She found the first spot to hang it from which turned out to be the living room's threshold. "I'm going to laugh when she has to give Luke a kiss."

At that, Spencer freely laughed. Aitana looked back to see him having to pause with the pine sticks in order to laugh. It was rare to see him like that. Aitana wished it wasn't like that but given their line of work, it was typical.

Before she returned to the bags, she decided to start up a some music for the background. "Do you mind?" she asked when Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy started from her phone.

"Course not." Spencer watched her sway back to the bags on the couch. He was smiling at her but when Aitana happened to look his way and caught him, he was immediately flustered.

She laughed when he dove his gaze to the branches in front of him. "I'm a whole show, huh?" She may have been embarrassed, her cheeks were a pink tinge. Anyone else would've said she was crazy but that would never leave Spencer Reid's mouth. He wasn't like that.

"It's okay," Spencer said quietly while he waited for his face to calm down with the heat.

Eventually, she returned to dig through the bags. There weren't many things left anymore besides the little ornaments that would go around the house and the tree topper. She started pulling out the tree topper when she noticed something different amongst the remaining ornaments. It was a small box with an adorable little red ribbon over it. She left the tree topper to take the box up instead.

"What's this?" she pulled the lid off and found one more ornament tucked inside. It was wooden crafted with 'A. D. T.' carved in the middle. There was a smaller carving of what seemed like a wrapped candy on the bottom right. A red and white plaid ribbon was attached to its top. "Oh, now this is nice!" She turned around to Spencer and showed him the ornament. "Did Penelope get this?"

Spencer was shifting on his feet for some reason. "Um, no, not...not really. I did." Aitana froze for a second. He now had undivided attention. "I was going to...to give it to you at work but then Penelope invited me here so I thought...I thought it would be—be better here."

Aitana looked at the ornament again with a new sentiment. "This is beautiful, Spencer. Is it hand-carved?" That was a stupid question to ask when she could see it plain as day but right now, her vocabulary wasn't at its strongest. Her heart speedy heartbeats were certainly a sign of that.

"Y-yeah," Spencer nodded. "Your initials. Aitana Dulce Serrano."

"And the piece of candy on the bottom..." Aitana chuckled at the carving. "Dulce means..."

"Candy," Spencer finished, though a better translation for him was 'sweet' because that's exactly what she was. "It's like a signature for your tree, cos...cos it's all made by you."

Aitana felt her entire face warm up. She had no idea what to do with herself at that moment. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She did have an idea of what she wanted to do but she didn't want to invade Spencer's personal space. "You are..." She couldn't even that sentence.

Spencer smiled in what he was sure was awkwardly. He didn't have anything better than that. "Do you like it?" His entire happiness may be depending on it.

Aitana almost laughed incredulously. "Spencer, I love it! The only reason I'm not over there hugging you to death is because I'm not sure if you'd want me up in your personal space!"

Spencer straightened up with a clearing of his throat. "I wouldn't...mind..." He was actually proud of himself for being able to say that in one go, even more when Aitana ran up to him to give him that hug. She was so warm and, ironically, smelled sweet. He had no idea how long the hug would last so he would soak up every second he had.

"I have to find something amazing to give you now," Aitana said, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck. "I don't know what it is but rest assured that it will be amazing!"

Spencer laughed. "You don't have to. I just know that you love your decorations so I figured having a personalized one would fit perfectly with your themes."

Aitana felt a rush of butterflies thinking about the fact he thought of her and her decorating nonsense. She was really lucky to have him in her life. She may have snugged to him without even noticing.

Spencer noticed. He noticed straightaway. He swallowed hard and had to put every last bit of his focus on making sure he didn't make this awkward. He didn't really know what to do but he was sure the main thing was not to make it uncomfortable. This was the closest he'd ever been to Aitana and he wanted to do it right. "

"I'm going to put this right up front," Aitana eventually pulled away but her eager smile was enough to ward off any of Spencer's doubts. She was enthralled with his gift. "Can you get the tree topper for me?"

"Yeah," he nodded and went for the bag on the couch. By the time he had the tree topper, Aitana had already placed the ornament right at the center. It was one of the first things anyone would notice. He couldn't help his swell of pride seeing it there. Maybe some part of him hoped that Aitana would think of him every time she saw the ornament.

"Looks perfect!" She stepped back beside him.

"Tree topper?" He held it for her. She gingerly took it into her hands and pulled out part of the ribbon. It was a huge ribbon bow in a dark brown and cream color, just like the rest of her tree.

"I want to put it," she said with a giggle. "At home, I always got to put the star. It was easy to do that when you're the only girl in your family."

"You were sneaky, then," Spencer smirked.

"Yup!" She headed for the step stool with Spencer right behind her. "You tell me if it's crooked, alright?"

Spencer stepped back to instruct her what side she needed to tilt the topper should it need to be. It was bemusing to watch her strain to pull it after he asked her if she wanted him to do it. She wasn't as tall but she was going to get the job done one way or another. To her credit, ten minutes later she did it.

"It looks good?" Aitana called. She was giggling as Spencer held his hands out in a frame motion. "What's the doctor's verdict?"

"Perfect!" He dropped his arms to his sides.

Aitana clapped happily. "Then I think we are done!" Spencer agreed and walked over to her. "With the tree because my house still needs a little Christmas upgrade!"

"I know for a fact that Penelope brought a whole lot of stuff for that," Spencer said.

"Yeah, but we can take a break," Aitana shrugged. She went down the step stool only to trip on the last one.

"Woah!" Spencer's reflexes were shockingly good because he caught her on time. "Did you get a little too excited there?"

"M-maybe..." Aitana was flat-out embarrassed and it showed in her cut-up laugh. Her hands rested on his shoulders, gripping them from the fall. "I just really love Christmas, if you haven't noticed." She raised her head and found they were incredibly close this time.

"I noticed," Spencer smiled softly at her. "And I think it's nice that our work hasn't tainted your holidays."

Aitana's eyebrows knitted together. "Is that why you don't put up a Christmas tree? Because of everything that we see?"

Spencer didn't immediately answer but his expression was doing it for him. There were images that just didn't fade so quickly. "It's not the entire reason but...kind of..."

"Oh, and me trying to force you into buying a tree and decorations doesn't help."

"No!" Spencer was quick to say and at the same time pulled his hands off her body. "You being in the holiday spirit is so nice to see! It makes me so happy knowing that your happiness hasn't been spoiled by work. And I would definitely like to put up a tree in my house, if it's with you. I like spending time with you. You make everything better, you make everything...sweet."

Aitana fiddled with her fingers in front of her. "You really think that?"

Spencer panicked for a moment when he realized that he had said all that. His first reaction—his instinctive reaction—was to make up something to downplay his words but Aitana seemed hopeful. She was hopeful for something and that something had to be about his words. He didn't want to be the reason her hope dwindled.

"Well yeah," he shrugged. "You're fun to be around with. Everyone always has plans for this time of the year and...it makes me wish I could plan things with you."

Aitana felt the air leave her for a second there. Her fingers pulled apart from each other and her right hand seemed to want to point at herself but her nerves were too much to do it. She glanced over her shoulder to her Christmas tree then back to Spencer. "So...you'd want to...keep doing this?"

By this point, Spencer saw no more reason to hide. He already said what he wanted to. "Yeah, and-and maybe go out to see, uh, the Christmas festivals. Get some hot chocolate maybe? I-I know there's a mini-concert happening this weekend. All the classics will be sang..."

Aitana chuckled while Spencer slowly trailed off. "Last Christmas?"

"Yeah, I-I'm sure that'd be one of them..."

Aitana folded her arms over her chest and stayed quiet for a few seconds (which seemed agonizingly long for Spencer). Panicking came easy to him thinking she was deciding how to reject him. "Could you...could you take like 10 steps back?"

"What?" Spencer looked down at the floor as if he'd find something there.

"Scratch that, 12 steps." Aitana motioned him to do it.

Though he was completely lost, he went ahead and took the 12 steps back. "...nine...ten...eleven...twelve." He looked around to figure out what was so special about the spot. When he met Aitana's gaze, she was biting her index fingernail again. What was she nervous about? "I'm not sure what to do now..."

"That's a first." She dropped her hand to her side then rushed up to him.

He caught her in his arms just as she threw hers around his neck and kissed him. Once more, the instinct came back and this time it was telling Spencer to hold Aitana tightly and kiss her back. He pressed her body against him and followed her sweet lips in whatever way they went. He knew it was impossible but he was sure that she tasted like actual sugar. He would've laughed if it didn't threaten to end their moment. He didn't want anything to ruin it. Aitana's hands were at the nape of his neck toying with his hair. Her touch was soft like he knew it would be. They'd touched before but nothing like this which meant everything he felt was new and better.

When they pulled apart, only slightly though, Aitana smiled up at him. "That was better than I thought it'd be," she admitted. She giggled with the clear blush on Spencer's face. She pointed a finger up and when Spencer followed it he found the mistletoe that she'd hung earlier.

"Ooh..." That's why he'd taken the steps backwards. "Clever girl."

Aitana shrugged proudly. "First kiss under a mistletoe...how could I let the opportunity pass us by?"

"About what I said..." Spencer stopped when she placed a finger over his lips.

"I'd love to go wherever you want. Anywhere. A walk, a festival, putting up a tree at your place..." She pulled her finger from his lips and fixed his cardigan. "Just tell me when."

"Tomorrow?" Spencer tried his luck. "Uh, there's a live reading for Christmas books. You said you like—"

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" Aitana practically bounced on her feet. She was an utter child for these things and yet he still wanted to give her more events like those? She was really lucky. "Oh Spencer, you have no idea what you started."

"I think I have a pretty good idea," he said, smiling softly at her. "I promise I won't be a Grinch."

Aitana laughed. "You could never be," she cupped his face. "I'm just over-the-top for the holidays."

"I love it. I really do. I want to make those plans that everyone always makes. But, just with you."

"Well, we can take a break here and make some hot chocolate in the kitchen...I have marshmallows. And the sugar."

"Dulce," he enunciated her middle name in a way that left her puddy in his arms.

She leaned on him with the biggest grin on her face. "Hot chocolate?"

"Absolutely," he nodded.

"And then we can start making those plans," she promised him.

Spencer already had at least a dozen plans lined up in his head. His arms wrapped around her again. He could finally do that and more. "I love the sound of that." They met for another kiss that delayed their hot chocolate for at least another five minutes.

[midnighttmarauder]

Go Away - Part 2

Read part 1 here!

Pairing: James Potter x reader

Summary: Reader thinks that James is in love with Lily and refuses to speak to him, so he writes them letters in hopes that they’ll realize the truth. 

Warnings: like one mild swear word, rushed ending 

Tags: @evyiione @quokkatrash @accio-rogers

A/N: This isn’t my best work, but I wanted to post something in a sort of comeback. I won’t be on here consistently because I just went through, and am still going through, one of the hardest times of my life. i just want to reconnect with you guys a bit and chat. As always, my inbox is open whenever any of you need to talk or just want to pop in and say hello. Hope you enjoy. Love you all xx

***

The past month had turned you into a master of avoidance. You had avoided James, Lily, and pretty much anyone associated with them to the best of your ability, which left you with nearly no one to talk to. Anytime Sirius or Remus even looked at you, you disappeared. It had been so hard to sleep that you had visited Madam Pomfrey, begging her to give you something that would essentially knock you out. The potion was effective, but disgusting. You had only taken it twice before you had given up and resulted to sharing warm milk and stories with the elves in the kitchens at night.

You committed James’ schedule and routes to class to memory. You took different hallways, didn’t even think of going to certain sections of the school altogether, and avoided the common room like the plague. From the little that you saw of James Potter, he looked happy.

James hadn’t actually broken up with you. He had confessed his love to Lily, which was basically the same thing. He had sent you multiple letters over the past few weeks, slipping them under your dormitory door or having them delivered at morning post. You didn’t have the heart quite yet to tear them up, so they sat unopened at the bottom of your trunk. Maybe you could open them one day. Or maybe they’d go straight in the fireplace.

James cornered you in the common room just before you could slip up the stairs exactly forty-seven days after he broke your heart. Seeing his face sent a pang of sadness through your heart, but it was replaced by a flare of anger that heated your cheeks.

“Can I talk to you?” James asked.

You only glared at him.

“C’mon, please just let me explain. You haven’t returned any of my letters, so I assume you haven’t opened them,” James said. He took your silence as your answer. “Since you won’t read them, at least give me a chance.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you ground out.

“Then you don’t have to. Just—promise me you’ll read the letters,” James said.

“Why should I? I don’t owe you anything,” you spat.

“I know. If you won’t read them for me, read them for yourself. You must have questions and I think the letters can answer them,” James replied.

“You know nothing about how I feel. You seem fine and dandy with your Lily flower. I should just throw your stupid letters in the fire,” you said. James sighed.

“Promise me you’ll read them. I miss you,” he muttered. You huffed and turned on your heel.

“You don’t get to miss me.”

***

James’ handwriting was both illegible and elegant. Sharp printing entwined with looping cursive created a lazy script that told when James’ hand got tired. Even though you promised yourself that you would never read the letters, something deep in your heart made you believe James. You cursed your weakness as you tore open the first letter with a little too much force, sending the wax seal sailing across your bed. You almost smiled as you unfurled the paper and smoothed it out on your knee.

Y/N,

I know you must hate me. But I want you to know that I don’t love Lily. Not anymore. I owe you an explanation.

I know you heard me tell Lily that I loved her, and I did. I told her that I used to love her because Sirius let it slip, as if I wasn’t obvious enough when I was in love with her. But I told her that I only love her the way I love Sirius or Remus now—as a friend. I swear to you that she’s nothing more. I wasn’t over Lily when I asked you to be my girlfriend. I’ll admit that I was a prick for getting into a relationship before I was fully over her. But you changed that. I never loved Lily as much as I grew to love you. You erased her and every other girl from my mind. You surrounded me, every second of every day. All I could think about was your pretty smile, your laugh, even the way you walk. I love everything about you. I still think about you every day, but now all I can think about is how I’ve messed everything up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

You’re it for me, love. I hope you’ll find it in you to forgive me.

James had a big heart to a fault. It was what made you fall in love with him, the fact that he had so much room for love. He offered his entire heart to everyone he loved, and still had enough to go around. You sniffled and tore open the next letter.

Y/N,

I hope you’re well. I noticed that you haven’t replied to my first letter, but maybe it got lost in the post. Those ruddy owls have a habit of dropping mail in the wrong places.

I miss you. I’m sorry for lying to you and telling you that I was over Lily when I wasn’t. I should’ve been honest from the beginning. I was a different person back then. I only cared about myself. But I’ve realized now that you’ve helped me grow up and become a better person. I want to be better for you.

Sirius keeps bugging me about talking to you, but I haven’t seen you around much. We’ve got a big match against Slytherin this weekend. I hope to see you in the stands. I always play better when you’re there.

You let out a sigh as you put the letter down and reached for the next one. You hadn’t gone to the match, hadn’t attended the party in the common room after to celebrate their win. While part of you was still mad, the other felt bad that you hadn’t been there. Not for him, you told yourself, but for the party.

Y/N,

Suppose my last letter got lost too. Maybe I should take my owl to the infirmary or something. I didn’t see you at the game, but we won! 250-240, it was super close. I wish you could’ve seen it, it was one of the most intense games I’ve ever played.

Sirius and Remus are on my ass again about talking to you. Remus said he saw you in the library the other night, but he didn’t know what to say. He said you looked okay, working away on Slughorn’s essay. Funny enough, I checked out the book you used right after you returned it. That’s the closest I’ve come to you in weeks.

I’m so sorry. I’ll send you a letter to prove it for the rest of my life if I have to. I miss you like crazy. Please, write me back or give one of us some indication that you’re okay.

Your heart beat painfully in your chest as you skipped over the remaining letters and opened the most recent.

Y/N,

Alice told me you have all of my letters, you just haven’t been opening them. I understand that you’re angry and don’t want to read them. I guess it helps me to write these, even though I know you’re not reading them. I don’t know if I’d have the courage to look you in the eyes and admit that I’m a coward. I’d give anything just to see you. You’ve become a ghost. I’ll do anything if you let me talk to you for even a minute. Whatever it takes to make you see that I’m sorry and that I love you. I hope you still love me, but I don’t really blame you if you don’t.

You had read enough. You collected the letters and stormed out of your dorm, nearly knocking Alice over on the stairs. She squeaked as you brushed past her and towards the boys’ dormitory. The stairs mercifully stayed intact as you stomped up the steps and knocked on the door. Sirius swung it open, and something like relief flooded his face.

“Y/N, what are you-”

“Where is he?” you asked. James appeared over Sirius’ shoulder. His hair stood on end and his shoulder peeked out of his t-shirt as he nudged his glasses up his nose.

“Y/N,” James breathed. You pushed past Sirius and waved the letters in James’ face.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” you growled. You distantly heard the door click shut behind you as James staggered back.

“Wha-what do you mean?” he stammered.

“Why couldn’t you say all this to my face?” you asked. Tears welled in your eyes despite your best efforts to keep them away.

“Because I’m a bloody coward, that’s why! You wouldn’t talk to me and I didn’t have the courage to come find you. I didn’t want to see you looking at me the way you are now,” James replied. He ran an aggravated hand through his hair, and you would’ve laughed if you could at the way it stood up.

“And just how am I looking at you?” you muttered.

“Like you hate me. I don’t blame you, I hate me too,” James said. You had never seen him look so defeated as he sank onto his bed and put his face in his hands. You sighed and sat down on Remus’ bed across from him.

“I’m not mad because of what you did. I understand now that what happened was a big misunderstanding. I’m mad at myself for not reading your letters sooner, and I’m mad at you for not growing a pair and trying to talk to me,” you said.

“I did try. You just yelled at me,” James replied, his voice muffled by his hands.

“But it made me finally read your letters. I thought you didn’t love me anymore because you didn’t come look for me. I thought you were so happy with Lily that you had forgotten,” you explained. James raised his head.

“Merlin, Y/N, I wasn’t happy. I was just scared that you didn’t love me either and I tried to act like everything was okay so that nobody would worry,” James said.

“It looks like we’re both gits who need to learn how to communicate better,” you replied.

“I’m sorry. I understand if you want to break it off and just be friends,” James said. You stood from the bed and stepped in front of him. He looked up at you as you leaned down to press your lips to his. James froze for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” James whispered against your lips. You laughed and cupped his cheeks, wiping his tears away with your thumbs.

“I love you,” you said. James smiled, and you found yourself smiling back. It felt strange after so long, but so right.

“I love you, sweetheart. Until we’re stardust.”

[sassypandacandy]

Candied Larkspur

Sooner or later, everyone comes to make a bargain.

The pre-law students are the hardest sell. They've read the fine print; they know the questions to ask, the verbal pitfalls to leap. They're her favorite ones to trick.

The English majors either come to her wary, or with stars in their eyes. The wary ones know there'll be a price to pay, one greater than her candied words promise. The starry-eyed ones would have been the first to eat from her table in the old stories.

Easiest of all are the scientists and mathematicians. They don't believe in her anyway.

She sits for one hour – no more, no less – at the table by the window, so the afternoon sunlight can fall on her pale topaz hair. She reads romance novels, or technical manuals, or outdated botanical guidebooks. The only other items on the table are a yellow legal pad, a blue pen, and a coffee cup filled with more cream than coffee.

These are the rules: You must bring a gift. When you have reached an agreement, you must sign your name on the legal pad. Then you must leave and never speak of your bargain again.

The first one today is a girl with curly hair pinned back by a thick butterfly clip. She has wet eyes and a sincere smile. There's a bottle of cheap moscato in one nail-bitten hand and a pack of Zebra cakes in the other. She loses her nerve halfway to the table and instead makes a beeline for me.

“Can I help you find something?” I ask, offering her my gentlest smile.

She clears her throat. “No, it's stupid.” She glances over at the table by the window, brow puckering. “She isn't...real, right? Like, she's not really---”

“That depends on you.” I can feel the heated brush of her gaze. Whatever I do, I mustn't look over. “How much you believe. How desperate you are.”

“So you know?” the girl asks.

I almost laugh. “Too much, and too late. If you're going to go through with it, tread carefully. Negotiate. Ask questions.” I lean in closer. “And above all else, remember: She is not your friend.”

The girl swallows and clutches her offerings closer. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Satisfaction stirs within me, a lazy cat stretching out in the sun. “That's very wise of you.”

“But I still need help.”

“And you can have it,” I say, nodding in her direction. “But there's a cost, and it's not always worth it.”

The girl half-turns away before glancing back at me. “You must've seen a lot of people get suckered.”

“Honestly? I've lost count.”

“But she doesn't hurt you? Even when you warn people?”

“We have an understanding.” I shrug. “And people rarely listen to me anyway.”

The next one is a boy a little older, with tall hair and a golden smile. He does not even look at me; like the rest of his kind, he goes straight for what he wants. He drops a dark, understated bottle on the table in front of her and crosses his arms.

“I need to pass my English final next week.” His voice grates even from across the library.

She does not turn her head. Slim fingers play with the pressed larkspur pendant around her neck. In the right light and to the right eyes, her nails are clearly talons. “And what will you give me?”

I silently beg him not to say the words, but of course he does. “Anything you want.” To him, this promise is meaningless. Or rather, it has a very specific meaning: Whatever his money can buy her. But of course, that's not the way this is going to go.

“I want an hour of your day,” she says.

He shifts in place. Something has changed, although he won't listen when his instincts tell him so. “What does that mean?”

“My price is an hour of wakefulness, to be taken at my liking.”

“Deal,” he says, and I close my eyes. He will be one of the bad ones.

Paper rips. She has taken a sheet from her yellow legal pad and written out the terms. Only now, as he signs his name with three flourishes, does she look him in the eye. Will he notice the odd purple-blue shade of hers? Doubtful. “It is done.”

“Whatever, weirdo,” he says, tossing the pen down. He swaggers out of the library, confident in every step of the easy road ahead. The paper has already disappeared from her hands.

The third and final one comes as the sun is reaching its golden hour. She has a bottle of Bailey's and a small notebook that she clutches to her chest like a shield. “May I sit?” the girl asks. “Or is that rude?”

“You may do as you like,” she says, again without turning her head.

The girl sets the bottle down gently in the middle of the table and sits. The dying light catches on her earrings, silver woven in the shape of trees.

She turns her head now, attention caught. “Those are beautiful.”

“These?” The girl touches the earrings and smiles. “Thank---I mean, I'm glad you like them.”

She tilts her head. “How can I help you?”

“My mom's cancer came back last month. She just beat it in March, and her doctor doesn't think her chances are good.” Tears well up in the girl's eyes. “She can't do it again. I'd like you to heal her and make sure the cancer never comes back, in any way.”

“A classic request,” she says. “The price is a kiss.”

The girl draws back, her face considering. “Not that it wouldn't be the highest honor, but do I have to kiss you?”

“You may, although you are right to be wary of such a thing,” she replies. “The kiss may be with whomever you like, although it would satisfy me all the more if it were with a stranger.”

“Is there a time limit?”

“Before the new year.”

“Which new year?”

The edge of a pleased smile appears on her perfect face. “The Western New Year will do. But the sooner you fulfill your part, the sooner I will fulfill mine.”

The girl checks her notebook. “Are there any other requirements or limitations like location or duration?”

At this, she laughs. It is the soft summer breeze and the baying of midnight hounds. “There are not.”

“Will anything bad happen to me or my mother as a result?”

“That, I cannot say. Life is full of bad things. But none of them will happen to you as a consequence of this day.” That smile reappears, and she toys with her pendant. “In fact, I am hoping for something rather good. The world needs more bold acts.”

Nodding firmly, the girl says, “Then we have a deal.”

She writes out the terms, including everything they have discussed. I cheer silently for the girl; this is the best bargain I have seen in a long time.

If only we could all be saved by our wits and a little silver jewelry.

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

It is the final day before winter break, and therefore the final day for making bargains. There is always a line to reach her table this time of year, as desperation rises and whispers abound. She is the university's worst-kept secret.

The girl with the butterfly clip has come by every day. She stops by my desk to talk before settling in to study. She talks about her break-up, how sometimes the lovesick ache in her heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and all she wants is to be able to breathe freely. I never mention the way her backpack pulls to one side with the weight of a wine bottle, or how the seat she chooses always manages to face the windows.

I hate to admit I'm becoming fond of her.

The peace of the library is shattered by a slamming door. The boy who made the poor bargain last week storms in, his hair in disarray and his swagger gone. He slams his bag on the table across from her, causing another student to jump back.

“Bitch,” he screeches. “You made me sleep through my business final!”

She has not moved a muscle. “The price was an hour of your life. You signed the contract.”

“I needed that class to graduate!” he rages, sweeping his backpack off the table.

“Then you should have been more careful with your promises.”

The students' whispers are growing louder. A security guard arrives, though none was called. He is just in time to hear the boy threaten to kill her for this. The boy is dragged out, purple-faced and still screaming.

I calm the students as best I can. It's finals week, and someone always goes a little crazy. Eventually they laugh it off. But they don't know what I know: The boy will follow her tonight, looking for his revenge, and he will see things he was not meant to see. It will be all the reason she needs. They will find his body in the first spring thaw.

The girl with the butterfly clip stops by my desk to say goodbye. She has a family to see, and a bottle of wine to drink. She thanks me for my advice. I thank her for listening.

Finally, the library is empty but for the two of us. “A bountiful season,” she remarks, standing. The table in front of her is empty.

“It was, my lady.” I turn off my computer and gather my meager things.

“There was one who never quite plucked up the courage,” she says. “She will taste all the sweeter when I snare her next year.”

I pause with my hand on the library door.

“They are only humans, Delphine,” she says. One hand curls over mine from behind, the talons brushing gently over my unchanging skin. “But if you would like to make a new bargain...”

Ice seizes my heart. “No.”

“No?” she croons. “But you have spent so many long centuries watching. Surely I could not trick you a second time.”

“No thank you, my lady,” I say again, opening the door with a harsh clang. I hold it for her, eyes downcast as she glides by only inches away. She smells of sugar and shade trees, like always.

In the old days I thought often of killing her, with cold iron or rowan staff or thorny bush. But my courage failed me every time, until I looked up one day and a decade had passed. And then another. And then another. In truth, I had barely noticed. There had been nothing and no one there to make me take notice. Not until a girl with a butterfly clip in her curly hair had reminded me that life was more than a slow march of days.

I stop the library door just before it can close. “My lady?”

She does not respond, but I feel the heat of her gaze. I hold the door open for her, and she walks back into the library. She takes her seat and picks up the yellow legal pad from where it is waiting. I take the second seat. The last embers of the day land on her face, painting her eyes crimson.

“Why this one?” she asks.

I know the answer without thinking. “Because she makes me feel brave. And she deserves to have a heart free from hurt.”

Her eyes glitter. There can be no greater thrill than tricking one who knows all your tricks. “Now then. What will you give me?”

She was right before; they are only humans. And there will always be someone else willing to make a bargain. But if I have learned any lesson in all these years, it is this: Some things are worth the cost.

[lilthreadsclothes]

Nothing Makes Me Smile More Than Looking Into The Face Of A Dachshund That Loves Me T Shirt From AllezyGo

All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them walt disney for the better part of my life I ve been known as a Nothing Makes Me Smile More Than Looking Into The Face Of A Dachshund That Loves Me T Shirt From AllezyGo basketball player some people those behind the scenes might have known me as a businessman but to the vast majority of people I was and am kobe bryant long time star shooting guard for the los angeles lakers few occasions over the past few years though have excited me as much as the time this past winter when I stood in the back of my office in southern california and watched my team build a puppet city canvas city out of nothing but cardboard glue and sweat not too long ago I was fully focused on basketball it consumed my existence and I was maniacal about improving and being the best in the game it was on a daily basis my life and that showed on the court I could score I could bend the flow of the game through sheer will I could to be honest dominate now though I moved around my office with purpose as I pursued another dream see I ve long been interested in the powerful art of storytelling and canvas city was going to be my first foray into utilizing animation and song to teach a global audience about basketball and life skills it s true yes that I ve taken part in documentaries and other forms of journalism until this past winter I always held something back I ve worked on edgy projects and I ve pushed the line here and there but I ve never fully given into my vision canvas city though was just that I finally felt ready we put in months and months of research and work before we even started building the set and narrative we put ourselves in a position where we felt confident we could teach kids how to better their best and achieve their full potential that doesn t mean however that we weren t still vulnerable people were going to tune into espn expecting to see and hear analysis from bryant the scorer they knew and loved instead they were going to get bryant the writer new and unknown instead of mamba mentality they were getting musecage shoot initially even my teammates on the project were caught off guard when he first presented the idea I was very surprised said patricia seely producer on canvas kobe comes from a world of sports and business so this was different it was courageous not a lot of people would put themselves out there in that way yet I went out on a limb and did just that I wrote songs aimed at adolescents I invented phrases primed for hashtag fame I built a large city in my modest office convinced espn it was worth 10 minutes and introduced the world to my inner mind I was all in and I convinced those around me we could pull this off kobe believed in it so much that I knew no one was going to stop this puppet train said molly carter cmo of kobe inc there will always be haters but we typically find that people are willing to accept creativity when it comes from an authentic place in the aftermath of the episode s march airing feedback came in fast and furious some people loved the idea so much that they recorded it and re watched it with their children other people took to social media to berate me I was interested more so than usual in the feedback I saw all the people who said they paused the show and brought their kids over to watch I also saw the ones that questioned my judgment my favorite out of hundreds if not thousands was probably the one that questioned whether I was a genius or insane I can laugh and I can smile I can do that because I faced down all of the boxes I was put in and stepped outside of them I pursued my vision regardless of what people previously thought of me and laid the groundwork for future puppets songs and of course episodes of canvas city like patricia once said the first episode was exhausting but the sky is now the limit all we had to do was take that first eurostep take a look at this same message in what do you do with an idea once you have an idea finding the courage to pursue it becomes the hardest part bravery in the eyes of doubters will be the most important factor in bringing your idea to life eventually others will see the beauty that you saw all along mondaymuse mambamentality. The best moments of vinicius jr’s presentation day los mejores momentos de la presentación de vinicius jr en el real madrid c f welcomevinicius. Need a minute or ten we ve partnered with our friends stop breathe think to bring you mindful moments that will help you find peace anywhere click to learn more image via instagram jescatebrown Nothing Makes Me Smile More Than Looking Into The Face Of A Dachshund That Loves Me T Shirt From AllezyGo

Nothing Makes Me Smile More Than Looking Into The Face Of A Dachshund That Loves Me T Shirt From AllezyGo, Hoodie, Sweater, Longsleeve T-Shirt For Men and Women

Premium Trending Trending shirt this Season : Pingu

Absolutely horrible customer service my son cancelled his subscription over 2 months ago and still honest not so continues debiting his bank account stop it he is in no financial position for you to continue stealing his money shame on you law offices of Nothing Makes Me Smile More Than Looking Into The Face Of A Dachshund That Loves Me T Shirt From AllezyGo todd m friedman pc this is exactly what I explained about this horrible company. I felt humiliated paraplegic man drags himself through airport after his wheelchair was left behind on a flight bbc in 2qao9tf. Wendy wolk ryan of westford ma is the last unicorn screening tour’s november prizewinner selected at random from the 10 000 people who signed up as tour members at screenings she attended the 5 9 2015 show at the images cinema in williamstown ma as her prize victoria selected the amalthea clothed fine art print by tsuguyuki kubo she also sent the attached pictures one of which really makes us want to hang out with her for lunch someday pirates always get the best seats in fancy restaurants congratulations wendy

Another product: Black Girl Had It Beat It Breast Cancer Survivor T Shirt

Trending for this post: Inhale Exhale Repeat Yoga T Shirt

[aeticon]

Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt

Today is the last day to win a Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt chance to meet me at homewalk and win lakers tickets register and donate to teamkobe by 5pm pst www bit ly teamkobe2014. Wendy wolk ryan of westford ma is the last unicorn screening tour’s november prizewinner selected at random from the 10 000 people who signed up as tour members at screenings she attended the 5 9 2015 show at the images cinema in williamstown ma as her prize victoria selected the amalthea clothed fine art print by tsuguyuki kubo she also sent the attached pictures one of which really makes us want to hang out with her for lunch someday pirates always get the best seats in fancy restaurants congratulations wendy. I felt humiliated paraplegic man drags himself through airport after his wheelchair was left behind on a flight bbc in 2qao9tf

Source: Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt

Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt, Hoodie, Sweater, Longsleeve T-Shirt For Men and Women

Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt

See more: Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt

Premium Trending This Summer Season will Presents Who Love:

All our dreams can come true if we have the courage to pursue them walt disney for the better part of my life I ve been known as a Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt basketball player some people those behind the scenes might have known me as a businessman but to the vast majority of people I was and am kobe bryant long time star shooting guard for the los angeles lakers few occasions over the past few years though have excited me as much as the time this past winter when I stood in the back of my office in southern california and watched my team build a puppet city canvas city out of nothing but cardboard glue and sweat not too long ago I was fully focused on basketball it consumed my existence and I was maniacal about improving and being the best in the game it was on a daily basis my life and that showed on the court I could score I could bend the flow of the game through sheer will I could to be honest dominate now though I moved around my office with purpose as I pursued another dream see I ve long been interested in the powerful art of storytelling and canvas city was going to be my first foray into utilizing animation and song to teach a global audience about basketball and life skills it s true yes that I ve taken part in documentaries and other forms of journalism until this past winter I always held something back I ve worked on edgy projects and I ve pushed the line here and there but I ve never fully given into my vision canvas city though was just that I finally felt ready we put in months and months of research and work before we even started building the set and narrative we put ourselves in a position where we felt confident we could teach kids how to better their best and achieve their full potential that doesn t mean however that we weren t still vulnerable people were going to tune into espn expecting to see and hear analysis from bryant the scorer they knew and loved instead they were going to get bryant the writer new and unknown instead of mamba mentality they were getting musecage shoot initially even my teammates on the project were caught off guard when he first presented the idea I was very surprised said patricia seely producer on canvas kobe comes from a world of sports and business so this was different it was courageous not a lot of people would put themselves out there in that way yet I went out on a limb and did just that I wrote songs aimed at adolescents I invented phrases primed for hashtag fame I built a large city in my modest office convinced espn it was worth 10 minutes and introduced the world to my inner mind I was all in and I convinced those around me we could pull this off kobe believed in it so much that I knew no one was going to stop this puppet train said molly carter cmo of kobe inc there will always be haters but we typically find that people are willing to accept creativity when it comes from an authentic place in the aftermath of the episode s march airing feedback came in fast and furious some people loved the idea so much that they recorded it and re watched it with their children other people took to social media to berate me I was interested more so than usual in the feedback I saw all the people who said they paused the show and brought their kids over to watch I also saw the ones that questioned my judgment my favorite out of hundreds if not thousands was probably the one that questioned whether I was a genius or insane I can laugh and I can smile I can do that because I faced down all of the boxes I was put in and stepped outside of them I pursued my vision regardless of what people previously thought of me and laid the groundwork for future puppets songs and of course episodes of canvas city like patricia once said the first episode was exhausting but the sky is now the limit all we had to do was take that first eurostep take a look at this same message in what do you do with an idea once you have an idea finding the courage to pursue it becomes the hardest part bravery in the eyes of doubters will be the most important factor in bringing your idea to life eventually others will see the beauty that you saw all along mondaymuse mambamentality. Just got a free eye cream in the mail as an apology for a late order I didn’t even complain about your products prices and customer service are all absolutely amazing you have a customer for life in me. Can you please change back to the original way the diapers were made I am having to change my daughters diaper more often and I m having leaks which I never had with your original diapers I am on several mom groups and we are all having to buy the diapers in bulk from t j maxx and stockpiling cases it makes me sad I love your diapers now I have 40 packs of diapers in my daughters closet from t j maxx See Other related products: Never Underestimate An Old Woman Who Loves Camping And Has Native Blood Moon T-Shirt

[cherryfloyd-blog]

Jimmy Page - Behind Closed Doors

There are so many cookie crumbs to this story and I truly put as much research into this as my brain could handle. What started as a fun idea, soon turned into a late night adventure of notes sprawled across my bed, snacks to keep the energy going, glasses on; with a pen sticking of my mouth as I thumbed through as many pages of literature that I could get my hands on. There are several parts of this but for the sake of remaining unbiased I will keep it as straightforward and simple as I can. There has been a rumour floating around for fifty odd years, that Led Zeppelin; more specifically Jimmy Page, had made a deal with the devil. In this article, I will break down the events that have lead people to believe such things. In the end, it will remain impartial and will be open to interpretation which we can discuss further.

 To begin, let’s talk about Jimmy’s growing idolisation and obsession with Aleister Crowley, famous for being an occult leader and magician. For more back story, Crowley was a British occultist who became known for pioneering the practice of black magic (or magick as he would call it). Aleister called himself Beast 666 and wrote literature on black magic and the occult, making him a major cult figure. He joined a few popular organizations to begin with, but ventured off into his own self created philosophy. Crowley believed himself to be the prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into  the Eon of Horus, thus founding the Religion of Thelema. 

(Below is the logo of Thelema)

Pictures of Crowley have since been discreetly used in pop culture, as if a small tribute. For example; The Beatles featured Crowley on their album cover art for Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club, he can be seen in the back row, if I’m correct. Building off of Page’s affinity for Crowley, which began to noticeably build by the mid to late 60’s, Page financed to own a bookstore in Britain which specialized in selling publishings of the occult and black magik. Needless to say, Jimmy was in deep at this point but still only scratching the surface of infatuation. The bookstore was named “The Equinox” which was also the name of a book that Crowley himself had written on the occult and magic. To this day, Jimmy Page has the second largest collection of Crowley memorabilia and literature, which is no small expense. His bookstore is now closed, but back in the day had been in stock of some very pricey and hard to come by black magik publications.

Another thing I found interesting, was Page being heavily influenced by very iconic blues artists, such as Robert Leroy Johnson (okay, maybe not that interesting, everyone in rock cites him as being the backbone of rock n roll today) nonetheless, Johnson died at the age of 27 from unsolved and suspicious causes. He never became famous while he was alive, but rumour has it that Johnson had also sold his soul to the devil in return for fame, at a crossroads, which Robert mentions in a few songs. A very small, unrelated tidbit of information, but it makes you wonder if our rock star idols gave up more than a normal life, to become internationally loved and recognized.

Around the year 1970, Jimmy had supposedly asked the band to perform a ritual with him, one that would bring them power and something along the lines of everlasting life? I know right, no biggie, just dabbling with some dark forces. Anyone that knows black magik, can tell you that spells like this are not something to be taken lightly or messed with. John Paul Jones was allegedly the only one to not take part in this pact, which you’ll later realize why that makes all of this so much more strange than it already is. If you think about it, had they made such a pact it would make sense. Robert Plant has made it to the list of top 100 best singers of all time in Rock history, not only that but made it to number one (1). Jimmy Page? Well he’s seen as a god and legend by almost every guitar player in the modern world, and has been ranked number two, only one spot behind Jimi Hendrix. John Bonham has been recognized as one of the best double kick drummers in history, quite literally, every drummer looks up to him as also an almost god like figure. As for John Paul Jones? There is no doubt the man is wicked talented, but not nearly as talked about or famed. We can all acknowledge the man has serious talent, and yet seems to be left in the shadows of his peers.

The first evidence of this pact can be seen with the album Led Zeppelin III, between the end of the last song and the paper label is the outro groove written into the vinyl was “So mote it be” on one side and “Do what thou wilt” on the other. The are basic phrases that are the core of Crowley’s belief system. By this point people were determined that Jimmy had become a member of O.T.O , and organization and cult who’s most influential and iconic member was none other than Crowley. More about the organization can be read about in a link below, but it should be noted that they have four pillar rules; one of which is to not speak of the organization to others or discuss the practices of which they studied. A rule, that Jimmy Page is believed to have broken at one point.

The second piece of evidence was apparent with the release of Led Zeppelin IV, when symbolism became a driving force. Inside the album is a painting of the hermit (a powerful tarot symbol), later in life Jimmy would refer to himself as being something of a hermit despite being a major public figure. The album provides no title, and shows no band name on the cover, but on the inside are four brightly printed logos across the sleeve. From left to right, these symbols represent Page, Jones, Bonham and Plant. Page has said in interviews that the symbols (for the most part) were taken from Rudolf Koch’s 1955 Book of Signs. Plant’s symbol is probably the easiest to decipher - as it is the feather of truth and courage, from the origins of Egyptian goddess Ma’at. John Bonham’s is believed to be either a drum kit, or the symbol of trinity of a family unit (meaning father, mother, child). John Paul Jones, which was likely picked by Jimmy, was the a celtic sigil for confidence and competence. However, Jimmy’s logo has always been the hardest to breakdown and figure out. While most people believe his logo represents saturn (which controls the Capricorn sign, Jimmy is a Capricorn so it would make sense), there is a certain level of mystery behind it. Page has famously said he will never tell anyone what it means. Thought Plant has once said that Page revealed the full meaning of all four signs, including a detailed discussion of what Zoso meant. Admittedly, Plant expressed he was too drunk to remember by the next morning, and when he had asked Page about it again, page replied with saying he couldn’t/wouldn’t discuss it. Now this could very well be Jimmy’s antics, or just general mysterious persona, or perhaps he simply cannot discuss or reveal information. Perhaps, this is the one of the four pillar rules of O.T.O that Page had broken. Jimmy is an all around very private person, who very rarely, if at all, talks about his religious or spiritual beliefs or practices.

It is worth noting that Sandy Denny (pictured below) of Fairport Convention, the voice on The Battle of Evermore track, was given her own sigil. The logo is translated to Godhead or the power of female.

According to Pamela Des Barres, Pages girlfriend of this era, has said that at this point Jimmy got very deep into the studying of Crowley, and had even asked her to search San Francisco and Los Angles for Crowley memorabilia. She had not fallen short on this task, and managed to dig up some very impressive artifacts, manuscripts, and even “magical” robes that Crowley has worn. In 1970, around the time of the ritual, Page had dropped a large chunk of cash to acquire Crowley’s mansion, Boleskine, located on Loch Ness. The home, once owned by Crowley, had a large history of suicides and an even bigger turnover rate of employees as they found the home to be no doubt inhabited by dark entities. Regardless of what one may believe, the house holds a sinister vibe. Page later sold the home in 1992, and had actually been very wary of ever living there and had left the estate in a caregivers possession. Of the 22 years that he had owned the house, he only spent 6 weeks in total living there. In 2016, the house unexplainably burned down. (pictured below is Jimmy at the mansion) 

 Now this next part is where shit gets bonkers, so to speak, the rest so far has been rumours and back stories and alleged encounters. Just a man with an obsession, and depending on your personal beliefs, you may find that he took his practices too far. Perhaps his intentions were pure, but looking at his life in general, what did Jimmy have to sacrifice to become quite literally a noteable person in history. Well let’s see.

Introducing Kenneth Anger; a fellow Crowley disciple and filmmaker, drug taker and subversive. He spent most of his time drawing magic circles, burning incense and chanting spells in Enochian - trying to do a real ritual exorcism. Plans for his film Lucifer Rising began to fall apart when Bobby Beausoleil (lead actor) - had to quit. Bobby, who later stole rough cuts and cameras from Anger would soon regret this. To take revenge, Anger supposedly made a talisman to curse Bobby. Within a year, Beausoleil had ended up convicted of murder with a life sentence for the murder of Sharon Tate as part of the Manson family murders. Wild, I know. Possibly just a coincidence, or even just a tall tale.

Cue Jimmy Page, who had agreed to do the soundtrack for Angers film, and the music Jimmy had produced is exactly what you’d expect. Dark, eerie, and perfect for a film of satanic proportions. Some of which can actually be heard in the intro for “In The Out Door”, his melancholy and devilish sound coming through in the song “In The Evening”. Kenneth and Jimmy had a love/hate relationship, and what started as a mutual appreciation and dedication to Crowley’s practice and image, soon turned to ugly turmoil just as quickly. Anger moved into Boleskine, where him and Page shared a love for Crowley memorabilia. However, as their friendship deteriorated, Anger was asked to leave the Crowley mansion. At the height of Led Zeppelin’s career, Jimmy had pulled out of the film project in 1975. Allegedly, Anger soon stated that he had cursed Page and Zepp with a major spell, a spell so big that it took all of Crowley’s teachings he could muster up, to cast upon them.

 Almost immediately, the band started to experience turbulence and the eventual downfall of their career as one tragedy after another struck them to the core. Robert Plant was in a car crash, plunging off a cliff in Greece in 1975, nearly killing himself, his wife and his son Karac. Which meant cancelling the Physical Graffiti tour and having to record in a wheelchair. The make up tour was littered with negative events starting with Plant getting Laryngitis. Followed by ticketless fans in Cincinnati rioting and storming the gates. In San Francisco, manager Peter Grant and John Boham had gotten into a fight with Bill Graham, and nearly beating a Bill Graham employee to death. Both Grant and Bonham narrowly escaping serious charges and incarceration. Karac eventually fell ill, and no amount of money would make him better, as doctors had no idea what was wrong, by 1977 Karac had passed away and the tour was cancelled. At this point, Plant had quit the band and music in general in response to Page and Jones not showing up to his sons funeral.

Around this time, Page was nearly comatose on a daily basis due to a crippling Heroine addiction, and Bonhams alcoholism was raging out of control, becoming increasingly violent and unpredictable. In 1978, Sandy Denny, the goddess of the Battle of Evermore, drunkenly plunged down a flight of stairs; breaking her neck and died. The tip of the iceberg was the incident that occurred in September of 1980. Handlers had tucked Bonzo into bed after a band rehearsal, following a night of heavy drinking; assuming he would be okay, he’s done it a million times before, right? But as well know, John tragically died in his sleep from asphyxiation. It’s worth mentioning, that in the middle of all of this mayhem, John Paul Jones had remained completely untouched. While the loss of Karac and Bonham had affected John, being as they were family, he was never really directly affected. Could this be because he stayed as far away from the pact as possible? Could these events be natures way of taking something, in return for giving something such as power? Is this all the work of Angers alleged curse?

Robert Plant once addressed these very claims, as some people point fingers at Jimmy being the cosmic reasoning behind the passing of Karac and Bonham. Though, he says it’s a cheap shot. This is what Plant had to say about the matter - “The comments about how it was all connected with Jimmy’s dalliance with the dark side or whatever, that was cheap. I’ve never shared the preoccupations with him and I don’t really know anything about it. Fate is already written”. I suppose it has less to do with whether Page “sold his soul” and more to do with the possible repercussions of playing against nature, and whether such practices have a domino affect. The piling strange circumstances does make one wonder how involved Page really was, and how much the involvement took a toll on the band. Just how much of it can account for Led Zeppelin’s massive success, to the point of making history in music forever (everlasting life?). At the end it could all very well just be a bunch of mumbo jumbo non-sense. I am curious as to what you all think, feel free to leave comments or shoot me a message!

*Note; Do not take this too seriously, it’s all speculation and open for interpretation. Below are some interesting sites that I used in my search!

Resources:

https://forums.ledzeppelin.com/topic/15027-jimmy-and-crowley/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley

https://carwreckdebangs.wordpress.com/2015/06/09/aleister-crowley-jimmy-page-and-the-curse-of-led-zeppelin-when-myth-magick-and-weird-facts-collide/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ordo_Templi_Orientis

https://zososymbol.com/

[lgbtfurubanet]

(Author’s note: This post contains spoilers for the anime fruits Basket. If you sill want to read but haven’t watched the original anime or read the manga I will mark again for when plot important spoilers are mentioned.)

Fruits Basket came into my life a a very important time. I discovered the anime in 2015, 5th grade. At the time my grandparents were still married. They have raised me since I was 2.

At the time I was dealing with a lot of mental turmoil. I’m non-binary but at the time I didn’t have the words for my gender. Access to the internet was limited and often racked. Grandpa was and still is very conservative. We fought for years over wether or no I should be allowed to wear pants instead of shorts and dresses. Although Grandma is more liberal now,she was at one point conservative, however; less so than Grandpa. For the most part, I could do what I wanted around her and she would help me hide it from Grandpa. Fruits Basket became our secret. 

While every character taught me something or helped me in some way I am only going to explain he most important lessons.

My relationship with Tohru Honda is he most complex of the bunch because while I still have a ending to emulate her now, there was a time where it was obsessive. At the time it wasn't so much I wasn’t a girl as much s I wasn’t good at being a girl. To put it frankly I thought that because I had the parts, even if I wasn’t comfortable with those pars -- I was still a girl and girls had to act a certain way. I though Tohru was the perfect girl. I did my hair like her. I dressed like her 9minus moments where she is wearing pants.) I acted like her. She was clumsy and caring and kind. She takes care of the soma’s and always knows what to say. I emulated her. I wanted o become her. Inside of me there was more Tohru than me. I love her now but looking back on it, there is no way this was healthy.

It was awhile before I met Momiji -- remember this had to all be kept secret. I loved him from the moment I met him. He is the rabbit; my favorite animal. I think even without what I.m about to explain, Momiji would still be my favorite character just because he is a rabbit. (Anime spoilers ahead. Read at your own risk) Momiji and I have a lot in common with each other. The ones that sticks out to me the most  are that neither of us get to see our mothers often and that we both have siblings who we don’t see because of the situation with our parents. Finding out about that made me feel closer to him in a way. It made me feel a little less alone.

Another important thing is that Momiji is childish. I didn’t really get to do that when I was younger but getting to know him felt like a permission slip to be loud and ask for things. I let go of Tohru just a little bit.

I know a lot of people headcanon Ritsu to be a trans woman but for me it helps that he is a cis male who likes to wear female clothes. I think at h ime it helped because I was so sure I had to be a girl that seeing someone dressing how they waned was inspirational. He gave me the courage to fight to wear what I waned (and win!) 

In the summer of 2015, almost a full year after finding Fruits Basket, my grandparents divorced. For christmas my grandma got me the full fruits Basket manga series (This was quite a fea as this was before he manga was re printed so they’re the original run.) It was something new and familiar at the same time and it helped me get through the hardest parts of the divorce.

I chose to live with my grandma. 

Almost two years after the divorce I came out as pan (even hough I’m ace) to my grandma. We fought for awhile but eventually sat down o some Fruits Basket and worked things out. 

After being outed as non-binary I re Read he manga. I think it got re printed around that time too but I don”t know for sure.

My freshman year the anime was rebooted. The anoncment was made during a long depressive episode.

Fruits basket seems to come back when I need it most. Maybe I’m looking for something that isn’t really there but it makes me happy to think that I have one thing that I can count on to help me work through my problems.

cheers to a Fruits Basket filled year and a newly found fandom.

[dimples-of-discontent]

Hwæt: I'm Waging a Campaign

Hwæt. We Gardena in geardagum,  þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon, hu ða æþelingas ellen fremedon.

So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness. We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.

(Beowulf, trans. Seamus Heaney)

Hello friends,

I’m cross-posting this from a CaringBridge site that I could link to but which will reveal my secret IRL identity since the URL is my name for ease of finding! (I actually think that’s fine but, y’know, use the info respectfully since I have worked to have separation between my professional social media and my fandom social media.)

This is an introduction and update on how things are going with my breast cancer. I’ll do some cross-posting, but most updates will be on CaringBridge and, potentially, a sideblog here that will be less family-approved and/or full of reflections on the whole process. I’ll link you to that if I make one. Thanks for all the good wishes and the gentle hellos and the positivity. It has been sustaining and I am lucky in my friends and family here. 💜💜💜

(Author's note! This is a long post with a fair bit of technical stuff that I find fascinating but don't expect you to. It's just hard to know how to catch you all up without going into detail but, if you like, feel free to skip to the last couple paragraphs.)

If you're here that means you already know many of the basic info, which is that about 6 weeks ago I was diagnosed with triple-negative, metastatic breast cancer. It's pretty nasty and aggressive and moved quickly from a large tumor in my left breast to my axillary lymph node to my lungs to the soft tissue next to my spine (with probable bone marrow involvement). It's probably about 6-9 months old. I wasn't looking for it since, at 34 with zero family history, I wasn't even old enough for screenings. But genetic mutations come from somewhere and it looks like I am the mutation.

Is there good news? Not much. (Not yet.) The tiniest bit is that more aggressive cancers tend also to be more responsive to treatment. The fact that it's triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC) means that the tumor is negative for the three types of receptors that can be used for additional therapies: progesterone, estrogen, and HER2. (A second test actually put my ER number at 20%...which sounds a little like me in general: although I seem very negative at second glance you'll see that I'm about 20% positive.) It's also negative for androgen. This means that the only potential kind of supplementary therapy that might help along with chemotherapy would be immunotherapy. I'm not a candidate for either surgery or radiation since the spread of the cancer is so pervasive and those are highly localized.

I haven't started treatment yet. For these past weeks I've been in a really difficult phase of undergoing a lot of tests to determine the character, extent, and location of the cancer. This was a surprise to me (and to my parents, who came out to NJ immediately and who have been living with me throughout this process). I sort of imagined that when you got the cancer diagnosis--which I did on January 24th at 11am when I was sitting in my office filling out a performance evaluation for my job at Princeton--they'd rush you off to an emergency room where they'd start treatment immediately. I definitely didn't anticipate having to schedule (a challenge in and of itself) and undergo so many tests and to have to wait, terrified, for each series of events. So far, this has been the hardest and worst part.

Being whisked off is more like what happens if your cancer is localized in the breast and associated lymph node. The big first question was whether the cancer was metastatic or not, which they found out with a CT scan that showed it, first, in my lungs. This was maybe the worst news of the whole thing because it meant that radical options to contain it (mastectomy, radiation) were out and that we had to do a bunch more investigating to figure out where the cells had hidden. There was a worry about my liver which showed a large mass that had been there since 2016 when I'd actually been tested for cancer--thanks to chronic fatigue and consistently elevated white blood cell counts--and come up clean. (Luckily the consensus is that the liver mass is benign since it "grew" only .7cm in 2 years, a possible measurement error.) This left the bone scan, which did show the tracer being absorbed, which led in turn to MRIs and a biopsy to confirm metastasis.

Every time I got a new result I learned that you really have to read the fine print when you wish to be exceptional. All of this is so statistically unlikely...and yet it's true.

All-in-all I had two biopsies of three tumors (breast, lymph node, soft tissue next to the spine), two mammograms, two CT scans, and three MRIs. This is in addition to office visits and blood work. I began working with a medical oncologist at Memorial Sloan Kettering (MSK) in Manhattan which brought me back to the city more times than since I left after college. It was looking like the only possible treatment option was single-agent chemo. Most clinical trials for TNBC require that you have been treated first. (I have "de novo" metastatic disease, meaning it had already spread when they first discovered it rather than that it was treated locally but spread anyway.) Others require hormonal receptor positivity. The few I was eligible for were often not enrolling.

However, thanks to the tireless research efforts of my dad, we found out about a clinical trial at the Dana-Farber clinic in Boston that I am potentially eligible to join. It's testing an immunotherapy agent that has already proved effective with TNBC with one chemo agent with a different one. (It actually just got approved by the FDA.) The only trick is that the way the immuno agent works requires that you have a specific protein (PDL1) to really see results. Essentially, one way cancer cells sneak around is switching off your immune system so it can't "see" that they are invaders. The turning off of the immune switch happens with a protein bond involving PDL1; the immuno agent being tested blocks that bond so that the "lights" stay on and the cells can't sneak around as easily. Clever! But if I don't have the protein it's not clear that either being in the trial or getting the now-FDA-approved treatment will benefit me more than single-agent therapy.

So that's the test it's all depending on right now. I should hear in the next couple days. If you want to send positive vibes and wishes and make sacrifices to your god(s) of choice, do it for PDL1 positivity. I feel discouraged, since I've been negative for everything so far, but these are all independent events.

I am also waiting for genetic testing to see if this is a germline mutation--like BRCA--that I inherited. This might affect future treatment and, if I did have one, could be good news because BRCA1 and BRCA2 are very heavily researched...in fact, when I worked in breast cancer research at Wash U Med School I was working with the BRCA lines. (For those who don't know, I started college wanting to go to med school--or at least get a PhD in genetics--so I spent 3 summers between age 16 and 19 studying breast cancer. It's equipped me well to have these discussions, though I certainly imagined being the doctor rather than the patient.)

There are three treatment options that I will (hopefully, hopefully) finalize soon.

I will have the PDL1 protein and will enroll in the clinical trial at Dana-Farber. This will require traveling to Boston every 3 weeks for intensive assessment and new rounds of chemo. The agent involved will make regular life a little rougher since it's by IV and only every 3 weeks. (And I might be in the control group, in which case I'd only be getting the chemo agent. I will, however, know which group I'm in.)

I will have the PDL1 protein and will receive the now-FDA-approved immunotherapy/chemo combination in Princeton with a local doctor and Dana-Farber only doing big-picture stuff.

I will not have the PDL1 protein and will receive single-agent chemo in Princeton, probably orally (twice a day) which is less intensively bad and more low-grade bad all the time. (There is, I guess, a kind of 3b. in which I decide to enroll in the trial even if I don't have PDL1 but it seems less likely.)

So, if you are keeping track of the big decisions that will allow me to actually, finally, begin actively fighting against this that's the last one. I appreciate all the notes that you've been sending so far. I get "message fatigue" but I see all of them and, in fact, have been saving all of them to look back on when things get even harder. So if you'd like to leave love and encouragement here too please know that I will see it and it will be helpful. I'm very unfortunate in this but incredibly fortunate in the number of people I have out there pulling for me and offering support.

Love to you all.

Site link

[zohaossowska]

On the 10th of November we had our second Heathers: The Musical show. The premiere took place on the 28th of June. I am only speaking about this now because we have our third and last show in two weeks. This is the text I wrote at the beginning of the school year:

Since I was a little kid, I have had one, biggest dream-to be an actress. To work with many people, to play different roles, to shoot in many countries, to test my acting abilities, to touch peoples’ hearts by expressing emotions and meanings. I was always too scared to try to make my dream come true, because everyone was telling me that I can’t make it, because I don’t live in USA, that this job is unstable and I am not good enough to achieve that stability. I thought that was reasonable and started to search for another dream, another passion. But nothing stole my heart like that, nothing seemed satisfying for me. Even tough I knew that I have only one option that would make me happy, I did not allow myself to go out there and fight for my dream despite all the things being said to me. That was my mindset till I went to PRE IB.

I met two amazing women that had one amazing idea-to create a musical group out of school, just to have fun and practice acting. I thought that maybe this is my chance, my first trial in being brave enough to pursue my dream. So I supported them, we engaged many people (friends) into our project and we started our out-of-school classes. We decided to do Heathers: The Musical. It was a lot of work to get us started: we found a choreography teacher and a direcor in one, we organized in-group auditions in order to know who plays who (based on our vocal and acting abilities). Then we had to find a sponsor that would give us enough money to buy a license from Samuel French and provide us all the materials we need (scripts, notes). With the help of my friend’s mother and our paid choregraphy teacher and director, we finally started the hardest part of the project. We had to set up positions, practice scenes, songs, choreographies. And we had very little time-the scripts arrived around the end of April, while oir sponsor agreed to sponsor us only if we windward the show before July begins. It was was very stressful, but we managed to work on it very nicely, execpt for the fact that our group singing was not the best and we needed someone to help us sound better. We could not find anyone that would help us the way we needed and was also affordable. The date of the premiere was settled for 28th of June.

Finally, at the beginning of June I went to a singing workshop with Monika Urlik, polish singer. We grew to like each other and I asked her to help us with the project. And she did. We got the singing covered. Rehearsals on the stage began, we had to put two acts together and figure out the placement on the stage. Aparat from that we had to set up the lightning, prepare props and costumes and a guide when-to-put-them-where. It was a lot of work, the last days were 12 hours rehearsals. But we did it. We styled and printed out the posters, invited personally our close ones, and made a promoting photoshoot. The response was amazing-over 500 people were interested in our even of Facebook, and we only had 250 places available. We wanted to make two shows a day, but we physically did not manage to. A lot of people that came could not fit into the room.

On 28th of June we had our premiere. It was a huge success. Strangers were coming up to me to say that I was amazing, that they love the way I act. My family and friends were proud of me. I was proud of myself. I was proud of our whole group. We worked so hard. It paid off. But we knew it was not the end. We wanted to put out another show for people that could not make it the first time. We donated 1700 zł to pay for our summer singing workshop and started with Heathers this September.

Unfortunately, some people left our group after the first show. Since the beginning of September we are auditioning new people for our missing roles, we search for a new choreographer and director, as our old one is pregnant and unable to work. We rehearse every Sunday for 5 hours, practicing everything and teaching our new cast members everything. We have two more shows: in November and in December. Until then, we want to:

find new choreographer, singing teacher, acting teacher

cast new people and teach them their roles

work on our abilities

handle new lightnings

make new props and costumes

have a full-audience on both of our shows

I know that we are capable of doing even better two shows. Especially since this group is not a group of strangers anymore. It’s family. We have been together through a lot-people coming and going, finding everyone we needed, providing ourselves everything needed for the show, breakdowns, fighting fears and inner demons, testing abilities… We can do everything together. 

So far we auditioned many people (we created a Facebook website and printed and spreaded posters about our group in many high schools in Warsaw), took in three of them, found a new singing teacher and reminded ourselves of what we were doing before summer break for 6 months.

I am very happy to continue this journey and share it.

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

Update:

We performed the show for the last time. I think it was the best one so far. We have all made such a progress since the beginning of this journey. We worked on our characters, our singing and dancing abilities. Everything was so much more smooth and confident. Stress levels were not that high. We were able to get out of any difficult situation on the stage. We overcame so many obstacles in our minds. I think it’s too early for me to speak about this project. About my family. But it was amazing and taught me lot. Most importantly gave me the courage and belief that I can do it. I can act and I am good at it. I can make people feel things. Give the best out of myself for them. I will do everything I can to make my dream come true.