#girlie deserves a break and to be able to feel like a teenager to have Fun

[anpiels]

tried a different shading style for this one :] i missed her

[imagineswriting47]

Love Told

A/N: This is for @the-departed-potato​ who asked Sam imagine where Sam and the Reader are dating and Dean finds her diary (that has some embarrassing/explicit things that she thinks of Sam.) I love Dean embarrassing the Reader in front of Sam. Then an awkward conversation between Sam and the Reader. I turned this into a getting together story hope that is okay!

All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Summary: Dean tell Sam that Y/N loves him.

Parring: Sam/Reader

Warnings:None

Tag List; Open

Dean walks into Y/N; in his arms is a basket of your clean laundry. He had lost a bet on the last hunt with you and now had to do your laundry for the next two weeks. As he sits down the basket on your bed, he notices an old leather notebook sitting on the bedside table. The curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he picked it up. Opening it to the first page, he starts to read. Even after realizing that it was your diary, he kept reading.

The diary had been kept for some time, as it started long before the Y/N had met Dean and Sam. Skipping to the end of the journal, Dean starts to read. He sets the journal back where he found it before leaving the room with a smile on his face. 

It takes the subsequent hunt for Dean to bring up the fact he had read the journal. 

Reader POV

"What about you, Y/N? How was your first time?" Sam says as he turns to look at me. How the boys had gotten on the topic of who was their first I will never understand. But hearing about their first times and how they had both been teenagers made me feel even more like a freak. I knew that I was not beautiful; I had curves that no man seemed to find attractive. No matter how hard I tried, I never seemed to be able to lose the extra weight. After a while, I concluded that I would never be what a man wanted and that I would die a virgin.

"Don't you know Sammy Y/N is still innocent," Dean says as he looks over at me with a smirk on his face. My eyes grow wide, and my cheeks heat up. "She also has the hots for you, Sammy." Dean continues to tell Sam. I know that Dean must have read my journal and tells Sam about things that I have only written in it. About how I would want my first time to be with someone like Sam. I would want them to be kind and caring. How could Dean do this to me. I thought that he was my friend.

Quickly standing, I grab my jacket and make my way out of the room. I can hear my name being called behind me. Knowing that I would not be able to look them in the eyes, I break into a run.

I run as fast as I can away from the motel, tears falling down my cheeks. I run until my lungs are burning, my legs ready to give out on me. Slowing down, I don't know how long I have been running, but I managed to make my way to a park in the town that we are in. Finding a secluded spot at the edge of the park, I rest under a tree. 

Trying to get my breathing back under control, I lay there looking up at the sky and trying to find pictures in the clouds. I lay there long after it had gotten dark, and the cool air had chilled me to the bone. My fingers and toes had long gone numb. Moving to be sitting back against the tree, I hug my knees to my chest. Once more, tears fall down my cheeks. I didn't know I could cry this much.

"Y/N!" I hear Sam call from the opposite end of the park. It is then that I realize that having run from the room that I left my phone back at the motel. Sam and Dean must be worried about me if they had come out looking for me. I watch the both of them search the park, not saying anything before closing my eyes. Not ready to face them yet.

"Y/N?" I hear Sam say from in front of me. I don't lift my head from where it rests on my knees, not letting on that I heard him. I can hear footsteps getting closer to Sam and me. It must be Dean. The next thing that I know, I am being lifted into arms and carried away. I let my head rest on their shoulder, taking a deep breath—I breathe in the smell of Sam. Gun oil, Old Spice, and the scent of strawberries from his shampoo.

Dean always made fun of Sam and his girly shampoo. But I loved the way it smelled. It made his hair look so soft I always wanted to run my finger through it to see if it was. I always wanted to be close to Sam. He was my best friend. My safe place. My home. Dean had to ruin it by telling Sam my secrets. I was never going to tell Sam I know that I am not good enough. Sam deserves so much better than a broken Hunter. 

"I'm sorry. Please, Sam, you have to believe me." I whisper against his neck. My voice nothing more than a whisper, my voice rough from crying.

"Shh, sweetheart. It's okay." He tells me as he places a kiss on the top of my head. He carries me back to the motel, holding me tight to his chest. Dean walks in front of the two of us, and I can see him looking back at us. When he catches my eyes, he quickly looks away from me—a look of shame on his face. Dean opens the door to the motel before rapidly making his way to the bathroom and turning on the shower. Sam sets me down on the bed, closes to the door before going over to my bag and pulling out the pajamas that I had been sleeping in.

"We need to get you warmed up, sweetheart," Sam whispers as he kneels in front of me. It is then that I notice how cold that I am. That I am shivering so bad my teeth are chattering. 

"I got the shower ready for you, Y/N," Dean tells me as he steps out of the bathroom. Before I can even stand up, Sam is picking me up and carrying me to the bathroom. He sets me on the counter before taking a step back. He turns and sticks his hand in the shower testing the water to ensure it is right.

"I'll be fine," I tell him before sliding off the counter and pushing him out of the bathroom. I close the door behind him. I toe off my shoes and strip out of my clothing. Stepping into the shower, I quickly move to be under the water. I slowly increase the temperature of the water, letting it warm me. When I am no longer shivering, I move to wash my body quickly.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap my towel around me. I wipe the mirror over the sink; my eyes are red and puffy from crying. I look horrible. I dry my hair before pulling on my oversized t-shirt and sleep pants. Stepping out of the bathroom, both Sam and Dean turn to look at me. I quickly grab a blanket off one of the beds before walking over to the couch. I had been sleeping in the same bed as Sam this hunt as it was his turn to share with me. I can't not after what Dean told him.

"What are you doing," Sam says from where he is sitting on his bed, all dressed for bed. Curling up, I turn my back to the both of them and pull the blanket over my head. "Come to bed, Y/N."

"Don't Sam, just don't," I whisper to him before closing my eyes and falling asleep.

The following day I am just as quiet as I was the day before. I refuse to look either of them in the eye. The trip back to the Bunker is slow and uncomfortable when we come to a stop in the garage; I am out of the car as fast as I can and make my way to my room—locking my door behind me.

I wait until I can't hear them moving around anymore before leaving my room journal in hand. I make my way outside and to the back of the Bunker; finding a good spot, I set my journal down before soaking it in some lighter fluid. Throwing a lit match down on it, watching the flames consume it. I stand there watching it burn till it is nothing but ash. I turn to make my way back into the Bunker, only to find Sam standing behind me. A sad look on his face.

"Y/N, Dean had no right to tell me what he did. I punched him in the face after you ran from the room. But sweetheart, please- I would love to be your first. I love you." Sam says, and with each word, he gets closer to me till his hand is cupping my cheek. I lean into his touch. For the first time since yesterday, I look up into Sams's eyes to find tears swimming there. He looks between my eyes and my lips—his lip brush against mine in a chaste kiss before pulling me into a hug. His one arm around my waist, the other cradling the back of my head.

"I-I love you, Sam." 

"I love you to Y/N."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a hear and a re-blog.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: Creepy dad talk, das it.

HAPPY NEW YEAR and stuff! Thanks for the love and continued readership, I know this is getting really long (and it has SO much left to go), I'm going to try to keep up posting a little more frequently now just so I don't keep everybody waiting too much longer.

=Chapter 26

The Vale Police Department was a dreary building indeed. Small and quaint, but undecorated and forbidding on the inside. Grey walls and white tile floors, and burly men in blue uniforms leaning against desks and chatting with each other in terse voices. They all looked a little surprised to see a teenaged girl in white dress, ponytail only slightly askew.

“Hello,” she said with a small curtsy. “I’m here to speak with Jacques Schnee?”

The one with the black sunglasses on tilted his head back to look at her. ‘Officer Burns’, his nametag read. “You got a name, sweetcakes?”

“It isn’t ‘Sweetcakes’. It’s Weiss Schnee.”

“One second, honey.” He disappeared briefly. Weiss wasn’t sure if she was supposed to keep standing or take one of the uncomfortable seats just inside the front door, but just when she had made up her mind to do the latter, the man returned.

“Yes?”

“Ironwood says you can go on through. Just watch yourself, girlie; this ain’t no sock hop.”

Once through a door in the back, she saw another door made of iron bars. The officer unlocked this, then led her down a row of what she could only describe as cages. They were mostly filled with men, and they all seemed to be interested in wolf-whistling and cat-calling her as she walked past. Maybe she should have worn the longer skirt…

“Want in there with him? I’ll be out here.” He tapped the baton at his hip, suggesting he was ready at a moment’s notice to subdue any prisoner.

“No,” she whispered softly. “I need to speak with him, but I don’t want to be locked in with him. Not ever.”

That earned her a sideways glance. But all he said was, “Righty-o.”

Her father was not in fantastic shape, but in far better than most of his fellow inmates. His suit was a bit grimy looking from sleeping on the dirty cot in the corner upon which he now sat, and his hair and moustache were devoid of their usual lustre. The footsteps had brought his head up, and now he favoured her with a tight smile.

“Hello, little Weiss. Come to gloat?”

“Can we have a moment?” she whispered to the officer, not even daring to acknowledge him first.

“Remember,” he muttered, tapping the baton again. Then he moved further back down the hall, snapping things at prisoners here and there.

“Father.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he began while spreading his hands wide, smiling at her. “Gloating is still my first guess, but maybe you’re just curious. Or maybe you’re about to ask ‘Why, Daddy?’ or some other such drivel. As if my answer would be worth a hill of beans to a disobedient child.”

“Who was it?” she demanded.

“Who was what?’

Leaning closer, she glared daggers at him. “The one who set the fire. We both know you had something to do with it, so you might as well tell me.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said mildly.

“Yes, you do.”

“I have spoken to no one other than the warden and my attorney, Weiss. Certainly not to you or your mother - even though you both owe me quite the heartfelt apology.”

“Apology? You… we owe you an…”

After a moment, she began to laugh harshly. Jacques weathered that sound for a moment before he grew weary and snapped, “What’s so hilarious to you, my idiot daughter?”

“Oh, just that you somehow can’t figure out that you’re the one who failed us. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you’ve been abusing my mother for our entire lives, and right under my nose. I just chose not to see it. Too late for cover-ups and cleverness, Father; you tried to beat the both of us senseless.”

“You deserved it,” he growled under his breath. “All this gallivanting with gangsters, and somehow, I’m the villain of your narrative, just because I tried to discipline you?”

“It’s not ‘discipline’ to lash my face!” she half-shouted, ripping off the bandage to show the healing cut the leather had left there. “One scar wasn’t enough, huh? You won’t be satisfied until my entire face is so marked up that no one will ever love me! Is that about the size of it?!”

Sighing, he shook his head for a moment. “Don’t be hysterical. It’s unbecoming.”

“So is this beating you gave me. Not attractive at all.”

“Then stop earning beatings,” he bit out as if she weren’t grasping simple concepts. “The same could be said of Willow, really; she never could grow up entirely. And though the last thing I would ever want was to need to treat my wife like a child, it became necessary at times.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

Teeth bared, Weiss wrapped both hands around the bars so tightly that the knuckles turned whiter than her dress. “Who do you think you’re fooling with that ‘the last thing I would want’ routine? You do want this.”

“Careful,” he said in a dangerous tone.

“You want us to be your… your punching bags! Love to see us get hurt, love that you have the power to do that to us! It’s sick! You’re sick, Father, and I don’t ever want to be alone in the same room with you again!”

With no forewarning, he flung himself at the bars, just barely managing to catch one of her hands before she could pull it back fast enough. She tried to jerk away, but his snarling face was suddenly there, and she found she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t force herself to turn away or try to break free again.

“I’m sorry you were ever born, you ungrateful trollop. Daughters? I never wanted any daughters. Too much trouble, and too much like their mother. Don’t know their place. But I’ll be back to restore order soon enough.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Oh, haven’t I mentioned?” he continued in his oily growl, so low no one else could hear. “Daddy’s getting out of here soon. And you’ll have a lot worse to look forward to than some shabby old building being destroyed the way it should have been years ago.” His grin was positively demented, and she began to worry that his time in the jail had driven him over the edge completely. “I’ll mark your skin once for every stupid word of disrespect you’ve ever said to me. And Willow can look forward to the same.”

“No…” Gulping, she looked up for the officer, but he was turned away. “I’m- you can’t! You hurt us, the police-”

“Weiss, I own the police. I own this entire town. There isn’t anyone I can’t buy off, or call in a favour that they can’t refuse. Within a few days, my hearing will come due, and I’ll be out of this birdcage quicker than you can blink.”

Shaking all over, she whispered, “You’re a monster. You’re really a- I wish I’d never- no. I wish you’d never been born.”

“Then you wouldn’t be born, you bimbo! Honestly, how could I have raised such a dunce?”

“How did you set the fire?!” she demanded, hoping to squeeze some real information from him before she couldn’t stand to be this close anymore.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? I made sure it happened. And I’ll keep doing the same until you see the error of your ways.”

“GUARD!”

By the time he had turned around, he had let go and taken a single step back, enough so that it would not be readily apparent that he was holding her hostage. Shaking and angry beyond measure, she turned to make her way back to the front.

“See you soon, sweetie,” he promised in a carrying, cheery voice. “Very soon.”

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

“Wow…”

Weiss nodded as she gazed down into the malted she couldn’t even force down, no matter how hungry she was. Again. Her father’s words had ruined what little appetite she had left.

“Weiss, this is unacceptable,” Pyrrha whispered across the table. “He isn’t being… well, he isn’t being a father at all. How could he say such things?”

“I’d like to smash his face in,” Yang growled under her breath. Many of the diner’s patrons were glancing at her nervously; even if she was a girl, she still looked like a rougher element than they were used to seeing in the warm atmosphere of the establishment.

“Now, now… we won’t solve anything that way. Weiss’s mother will just have to work with Blake’s extra hard to ensure that he won’t be able to do such things.”

The brute rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure. I’m surprised you ain’t trying to tell Weiss to give him a second chance.”

“Well…” This time, she had to pause a bit longer to consider her words. “Forgiveness is divine. But he struck both his daughter and his own wife. Sometimes, God punishes people through the law, and I believe he needs to at least serve his time in jail before he gets any second chance. But if Weiss and Mrs. Schnee don’t want to give one to him… they have my full support.”

“Hmm…” Slowly, her head began to nod, then nodded a little faster. “Alright, Nikos. I guess I can respect that.”

Pyrrha's smile was weak, but at least present. None of them were in a particularly chipper mood anymore. She turned back to Weiss to ask, “How are Cinder and your leader? I can't recall her name.”

“Terrible. I haven't gone to see them yet myself, but the other girls say Cinder is in terrible shape. Salem will be just fine, and Emerald will need to wear some bandages for a little while. But they… they aren't sure about…”

When Yang's hand draped over her own, the tightness that had been building in her chest slowly began to loosen. “Hey. Not your fault, remember? And if it would make you feel better, we could go try to visit them right now. At least Salem and Emerald should be able to have guests and all; with Cinder they keep saying ‘family only’, but what good does that do anybody when she’s got no family?”

Weiss flashed her a grateful smile. “Thank you. And I know Sienna is helping them, but I really would feel better if I checked in on them myself.”

That was how the three of them reached the decision that they would go to the hospital after the soda fountain. All the way there, Weiss was on pins and needles. Would Salem even want to see her? But this wasn't about what anyone did or didn't want - it was about duty. Even though Yang kept telling her not to feel bad about what happened, she couldn't help feeling partially responsible since it was her father's doing.

As they had worried, Cinder was not available for visiting hours. But Salem was. The worst she had suffered was mild smoke inhalation and a few bruises. They also learned that Emerald would soon be released once her bandages were firmly in place, though Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that she would want to remain by Cinder's side.

The strangest thing about Salem wasn't the oxygen tube running underneath her nostrils, or seeing her in the sterile surroundings of a hospital. It was seeing her face and hair in full. She wasn't just pale… she was white. An albino! Weiss had heard some people were born without enough pigment in their skin, but had never met anyone like that before. Her hair was also yet whiter than her own, and done up into several braids. The curtains on her window were drawn, and now she understood that was to protect her sensitive skin from the harsh rays of the sun, just as that ever-present cloak usually helped with.

“Are you just going to stare?”

Dipping her head in mild chagrin, she and Yang paced into the room. “High Dragon. I'm glad to see you are well.”

“And I you, Little Schnee. Though I'm saddened to hear about Cinder. She was… still is, one of my most loyal girls. A fierce Dragon. To lose her would be a great tragedy.”

“I'm sorry, too,” Weiss said. She wanted to get this out of the way as soon as possible. “And… I'm afraid I am partially to blame.”

“Oh?”

“It wasn't really her fault,” Yang butted in, voice urgent. “Just because he's a big-”

“Silence, Xiao Long.” Her tone was merely cold, not overly severe. Either way, Weiss saw her girlfriend shut down immediately. “You were saying?”

As succinctly as she could, she explained about what had gone on between her parents, the abuse they had both received at the hands of her father. Then she summarized her visit to the jail itself, and everything he had said. As she listened, Salem made no other remark other than to ask for clarification on a point or two, and nodded or shook her head very slightly. It was as if she were listening to the news on the radio.

“I see. And because your father has taken these actions against us, you feel it is your responsibility?”

“Yes. You… you asked me to… regain his trust, be his good little girl, and I couldn't do that. Now, he thinks he's going to destroy all of us just to make me obey him again. I failed.” She felt Yang's hand fall to her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “No, I don't deserve to be comforted about this! I'm a Dragon now. You were trusting me to do a job, and I didn't, and I deserve whatever punishment you give me.”

There were a long few seconds that passed in silence in that hospital room. Yang's hand went to her shoulder again, unperturbed by her effort to get her to stop, and Weiss neither pushed her away nor acknowledged it.

“Your apology has been noted. No disciplinary action is needed at this time.”

“What?”

“However,” she went on with a single finger raised, eyes locked onto Weiss's. “You should never do that again. Before going to see him in prison, you should have consulted with me, or with the acting High Dragon - Yang.”

“What?” It was Yang this time, stunned. “I thought… well, I know I'm supposed to be someday, but I'm still a kid. Isn't Kali-”

The way she shook her head made Yang fall silent. “No. You should take her counsel into consideration, of course, but you are my successor. Not Kali, not Cinder, and not anyone else. I thought I had made that perfectly clear in the past.”

“You have,” she assured her with a brief bow. “Sorry. I won't forget that next time - but I hope there isn't a next time.”

“One can never know.” Her eyes returned to Weiss, pale hands folding in her lap. “As for you… I suppose you have done no real harm, not directly. This matter will be dealt with. Do you still believe that your mother can be swayed to our side?”

“I, um… I'd rather she not be any more involved than necessary. But yes, she's still working with Kali. And I can tell you she's completely finished with my father! We both are.”

“Then I find that satisfactory for the moment. If you could fetch Sienna from the hall, I believe we have much to discuss before my discharge. You are both dismissed.”

Though she had an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach, Weiss did as she was asked. Once they had spoken with Sienna, who looked tired enough for a dozen lifetimes but was as vigilant as ever, Yang led her to the waiting room where Pyrrha sat, sipping from a paper cup of water and looking completely out of her element. She stood the minute she saw the two of them approach.

“How are they?”

“Salem's fine,” Weiss told her softly. “Emerald, too, but… still no word on Cinder. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”

“I'm worried.” They both turned it to look at Yang, and she shrugged her shoulders. “The way Salem said she'd just ‘take care of it’. What's that mean?”

Pyrrha's shrug was even higher than Yang's. “Search me. But it sounds to me as if she doesn't hold Weiss responsible for what happened. That's a good thing, isn't it?”

“It is,” Weiss sighed weakly. “Now let's get out of here. Hospitals give me the creeps.”

“Me, too,” Yang admitted. She had seemed a little on edge since they got there, but Weiss attributed that to their pending talk with Salem. “Ever since Mom- I mean, Summer…”

Now it made too much sense. Sliding her arm around Yang's waist, she began to lead the other two outside. If they never saw the inside of a hospital again, it would be too soon.

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

This time, Yang went with Weiss when she made her way home. There was a possibility the introduction could be awkward, and Yang had certainly expressed a plethora of misgivings, but she wanted to get it out of the way immediately - especially if her mother was going to have more and more contact with the Dragons. Salem seemed to be under the impression that it would become such a regular occurrence that she might as well be one of them, but Weiss was determined to keep that from happening; her high-society mother was not ready to enter that world. Not fully.

Willow Schnee was getting set up in the living room for Kali's daily visit. Though Weiss had never seen her mother dating before, she was certainly pulling out all the stops for her guest as if she were; finger sandwiches, the good tea set, and quite a lovely, pale pink dress gracing her figure. That certainly did nothing to dissuade Weiss from thinking there was a larger amount of affection between the two of them than two new friends would typically share. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, and her expectant expression turned into one surprise.

“Oh! Weiss, hello! Sorry, I thought you would be out quite late this evening. Weren't you going to spend time with your new friends?”

Suppressing a wry smile at the way her mother said “new friends” instead of “group of thugs involved in organized crime”, she closed the door and led Yang over toward the couch where she was seated. “I wanted to check on you. Besides, I'll see them again tomorrow.”

“Well, thank you,” she set earnestly, reaching up to take Weiss's free hand. Her other one was nestled in the small of Yang's back, trying to be reassuring. It didn't seem to be helping much; the blonde brute was still sweating bullets. “But I told you, I'm fine.”

“I know. By the way, Mother, um, this is Yang Xiao Long. My, uhhhh…”

She didn't end up needing to explain. Her mother blinked a few times, looked between the two of them, then lowered her eyes to stare into space.

“Ah. So… she's the one you're… that you- well.”

“My girlfriend.” Somehow, her mother's inability to say it out loud made her need to finish the sentence herself.

“Girlfriend,” she repeated in a tone of utter disbelief. When no one else spoke, she looked up at her daughter, eyes pleading for her to take it back. It made Weiss's stomach clench but she pressed on.

“Yes. I told you about this, remember?”

With a slight nod, her mother turned away again. “Of course, of course. This is very…” A frown line creased the center of her forehead. “I'm sorry, Weiss. Really. I'm just not sure what to say about it. Everything I'm thinking sounds so…”

Yang volunteered a guess. “Bad?” It got Willow to look up at her, and only the presence of Weiss's hand in the small of her back kept her from retreating. “S-sorry, ma'am.”

“No, no, it's alright. That's exactly it: I keep hearing things that our pastor would say, or Jacques, or… but my daughter swears to me that it is true love, not just sin. And she's certainly had a better head on her shoulders than I have for these past few years. Who am I to argue?”

“Maybe,” Weiss attempted, her voice quivering very slightly from sheer anxiety, “if you got to know her, you'll see that she's not just a sinner, or an obstacle, or whatever Father thinks that she is. But you might have to try talking to her yourself to do that.”

That seemed to shake the woman even more. Though she had glanced at Yang once or twice, she finally turned to properly look at her. Whether it was how young she looked, or how uncomfortable and worried about the outcome of this initial meeting, Weiss could never know - but it had the effect of making her frown even more.

“Goodness, I am sorry. Yang Chan, was it? I'm Willow Schnee. Must have left my manners in my other dress.”

As she offered her hand for Yang to take, palm facing down, the Dragon looked a little confused for a moment. Weiss guessed it was partly because her mother had missed her surname and substituted that of Charlie Chan, since that was possibly the only Chinese family name the woman knew. Weiss was inwardly groaning but kept her comments to herself. In the end, Yang accepted the proffered hand and leaned down to kiss the back, as if she were some kind of prince at a royal function.

“Oh!” Willow gasped.

“U-uh,” she began, shaking the hand now even though it was still in that awkward position. “Nice to, um, make your acquaintance?”

Tittering with delight, she turned a wide smile toward her daughter. “So polite - and she speaks very good English! Will wonders never cease?”

Yes, Weiss did indeed feel like she could die then and there.

[ifeveristoday]

team Slow Burn/Burn it All Down

“Real monsters don’t announce themselves or present opportunities. Not here. They enter your head, your heart, tear at you from within.” -- Angel, Hellmouth #2

Are we talking about the demons underground or the demon walking around with Angel’s face?

Hellmouth leans heavy on foreshadowing and having unspoken/underlining meanings that differ from the actual words on the page. It continues using elements from Egyptian and Roman/Greek mythos but the main draw of this issue - and I’m assuming the rest of the series, is the reluctant partnership of Buffy and Angel. I don’t agree with the criticism that taking Buffy and Angel away from their respective apocalypses ruins the flow of the overall arcs. It’s a vast story to tell and the pace of the reboots (which is something I have criticized) makes it difficult to include in the main storylines without sacrificing important character development. There are just so many characters, especially in Sunnydale. Jordie’s writing excels at the character and emotional beats rather than plots, and while we have had some great strides in Willow, Xander and Jenny’s personal journeys, there remains some distance from the namesake characters, which I feel like it was intentional to get to the place that Hellmouth occupies. 

Love it or hate it, the Buffy and Angel relationship is a huge part of both of their stories and character developments and we’ve had inklings of how Buffy is going to change/possibly wreck Angel’s life in Angel, but he’s remained a shadowy figure in Buffy’s story. Hellmouth changes all of that while retaining some of the original canon’s flaws/trademarks but also poking gentle fun at them.

Spoilers from Hellmouth #2 below the cut.

Buffy and Angel are slightly different from their canon selves - Angel is independent of Buffy’s journey at the very beginning and already has his purpose set in Los Angeles. Buffy is a newly minted Slayer, living with her secret for a whole three weeks before wacky Slayer hijinks puts her in the path of Willow and Xander. Their initial meeting/relationship is reminiscent of the very early episodes of Season 1 Buffy - with a reasonable amount of wariness on Buffy’s part and Angel’s dry/slightly cocky attitude with a 2019 update of their anxieties. There’s also a flip in roles as Angel asks Buffy how she’s feeling and what she wants to do in the future at the start. It’s just the feeling of a connection with no romantic overtones. 

The comic recognizes the fucked-upness of Buffy being a child and fighting the forces of evil and sympathizing with her via the character of Jenny. While there is an obligatory nod to Buffy’s desire to be normal, it also makes a point of isolating her from the Scoobies and her frustration at knowing how to be the best Slayer she can be. Giles tells her that he’s to direct her, but not tell her explicitly what she has to do sounds an awful like parents preparing their children for adulthood. There is no handbook. While Buffy is welcomed into Willow and Xander’s circle (and that’s another flip - it is Willow who reaches out to Buffy first and invites her into being social), they’re very much a unit while Buffy sort of floats between their friendship. But I feel due to them being so young, it’s easy to claim best friendship, because - the intensity of feelings and hormones.

This makes Buffy’s character kind of harder to read, and less sunshiney than her OG counterpart. But it’s a shared facade - TV Buffy just hid it better underneath girliness and bouncy hair, while Boom! Buffy is focused, for better or worse to her duty. This is a Buffy that hasn’t quit Slaying before, who gets slightly conflicted guidance from her Watcher and who needs Willow and Xander more than they possibly need her to be a connection to being sixteen. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with.

Hellmouth gives Buffy the spotlight and also drops her into an immediate partnership with Angel. It very pointedly is not a romance - they both get on each others nerves actually, and it inspires A+ bantering while revealing the most of each character so far. Buffy’s venting to Angel (Buffy #8/Hellmouth #1) implies that she’s worried about her friendships and failure to connect, that she’d rather tell a complete stranger this than confide in her friends/Watcher. 

Angel listening and not judging shows an immediate empathy for her - and his actions during Hellmouth show a more vulnerable/less closed off Angel. He doesn’t occupy the same caretaker vibe he has with Fred and Gunn that he does with Buffy, namely because Buffy refuses it. She calls him out on trying to be the mysterious weight of the world Loner who takes on all of the responsibilities. 

Angel quickly realizes he just can’t be That Guy with Buffy, and it makes his character hilariously resigned/looser in response. He warns her about dangers in the Hellmouth but accepts Buffy’s way is different from his, but that doesn’t make it wrong. He’s willing to admit he might have been wrong about demons being upfront when the slithery shapeshifter demon confronts them - and Buffy’s snarky response “Cool, cool. Won’t rub that in.” lightens the tense moment. 

Notably, Angel is the one that gets injured/dragged by the demons while Buffy runs to save him. The fighting sequences are highlighted and Buffy’s scenes, in particular, are very smooth and highlights her Slayer grace. They fight beautifully together and despite their prickly banter, feel a shared responsibility to each other’s well being. Their separate confrontations with the shapeshifter shows their fears - Buffy ‘abandoning’ her family and friends and failing to protect them, Angel seeing the ghosts of the people he’s failed to save. Buffy reacts strongly to how her family and friends need her, while Angel angrily tells the shifter to stay out of his head and that it doesn’t know anything about him. Circling back to Buffy saying she doesn’t know what she wants, the Ominous voice implies Angel doesn’t really know what he’s doing and who he is.

Ah, vague accusations of something evil and upsetting, how I haven’t missed you.

After Angel demands to know who’s blood is needed for the further escalation of Evil Plan, and the Voice doesn’t reply, he immediately realizes Buffy is in danger and runs to find her.

Buffy’s still fighting the shifter and it mentions she could put an end to her family and friends’ suffering with her sacrifice - namely, that her blood will save the world.

While Buffy logically knows that the shifter isn’t her mom (because of course, the shifter would take on the form of Joyce), this emotional blackmail breaks her out of the illusion and she kicks it’s ass. Almost punching out Angel in the process. 

Angel is less emotional about his ordeal and Buffy lets him have it again, telling him that it's unfair that she’s the only one being vulnerable - “I opened up because we need to work together, and you haven’t said a thing.”

Instead of being defensive and defaulting to Sir Mopes a Lot - Angel sincerely apologizes and tells her that his fears were also centered around his friends and him not being able to save them in time.

And it’s Buffy’s turn to reassure him/pass on wisdom - she realizes that the Hellmouth wants to separate them to make them weaker and that Angel deserves a little more empathy from her.

THEY’RE COMMUNICATING THEIR FRUSTRATIONS AND CONCERNS WITH EACH OTHER, Y’ALL.

Angel does have a moment of saying, “Silent suffering is more my cup of tea,” and Buffy’s quick response of “And how’s that working for you?” showcase their differences/similarities nicely. Angel despite making friends doesn’t tell them what he’s thinking because he’s used to being alone, Buffy with her very loud opinions isolates herself (un)intentionally because she’s new to Slaying and being a teenager at the same time. They can’t talk to the people who care for them--- but they can talk to each other.

When they face hurdles, they take turns reassuring/pointing out the Obvious Evil, and then a tiny moment - Angel adds onto Buffy’s observation of not getting surrounded by the demon horde by saying, “Just like Thermopylae.”

As with each issue of the Boom!verse, when names I don’t recognize I obviously google them - and Thermopylae is a reference to both the battle of Thermopylae (think the 300 comic and uh, history) and the “Hot Gates,” and is the cavernous entrance to Hades.

Is my theory/wish that there’s going to be Persephone/Hades parallels and Eurydice/Orpheus vibes in this story going to play out? God, I hope so.

Anyway, back to the moment - when they inevitably get surrounded by the demon hordes, Buffy remarks, “Well, there goes thermometer.”

The. Classic. Buffy. Malapropism.

My heart.

Angel gets slashed in the fight, and Buffy worries about him, but there’s a bigger problem - 

narrated by the Voice - “Are you sure everything is as it seems? You’ve been wrong before.”

“Blood is spilled...vessels are filled...every pretender killed.”

Shot to Drusilla as Prometheus in chains, spouting some of the worst “Dru-esque” dialogue I’ve read. Sorry Jordie, this is up there with the clunky faux Whedonisms of the early issues.

So Dru isn’t the major Big Bad, but rather the unseen Voice, who we, of course, don’t know.

Is she ultimate sacrifice, the vessel (after all she is of Angel’s bloodline) and oh, Angel Still Hasn’t Told Buffy He’s A Vampire which...

Boo.

All of the voice overs hint that the confession when it happens is going to cause Buffy Big Mad - after all, Angel knows more about her than she does of him, AGAIN.

The art and coloring is stunning as ever in this issue - Carlini really knows how to draw action sequences, and the varying light/color schemes really make the sense of Buffy and Angel descending into the Hellmouth feel vivid and real.

tl;dr I loved this issue and each issue the stakes definitely seem higher. The bantering and a slow reveal of their personalities are also excellent. The foreshadowing/double meanings of the dialogues.

The stuff I don’t like - the Dru dialog at the end, Angel being secretive about his Vampire self.

[imaginedanganronpa]

Can you please do some headcanons with Romance novelist Shuichi, Archer Kaede, Tattoo Artist Ryoma and Botanist Himiko? You can give them slightly did personalities and backstories from canon.

You didn’t specify whether or not you wanted them to be written as Ultimates, but I did it that way. I hope you like it! I also really loved these and I think it suits them very well, especially Saihara and Ryoma! 

Romance Novelist Saihara Shuichi, Archer Kaede Akamatsu, Tattoo Artist Ryoma Hoshi, and Botanist Himiko Yumeno Headcanons!

Ultimate Romance Novelist Saihara Shuichi

Shuichi started living with his uncle because his parentsnever made the time for him. His uncle was an author and playwright himself, sohe grew up around books.

A lot of his uncle’s work were murder mysteries, detective novels, and so on –those never struck his interest. But he always read his stories to show hissupport, struggling to follow the plotlines and keep interest, though. 

He didn’t want him to know that he was actually more drawn to romance becausehe thought it was girly. His parents criticized him for reading romance novels,so Shuichi brought them to school instead. But not too long after, his peersalso started bullying him for reading romance novels.

He never seemed to catch a break until his uncle caught him reading oneafternoon. Thankfully, he was much more supportive in his interests. From thenon, he never forced him to read any of his novels and instead taught Shuichihow to write himself.

It’s thanks to his uncle that he learned how to become a great author. 

Due to the bullying and rough childhood, Shuichi is very timid and hates publicspeaking. It took him a long time to publish his first works, which were shortromance stories. He wrote the characters to resemble himself and a longtimecrush but would never admit to this.

His short story achieved massive success and only positive reviews. Shuichistarted working on his first novel that day, which received the same amount ofsuccess. He became a critically-acclaimed romance novelist as a teenager andthe rest was history.

He lacks self-confidence and doesn’t think his work is special but he’s gladthat it makes people happy. 

He is very serious when it comes to his work, and humble as well. WheneverShuichi feels depressed, he writes and it becomes his main coping mechanism. 

Shuichi is very intelligent and comes up with unique, smart, and quirky plotsand twists.

Girls seem to fawn all over him due to his status as a romance-novelist, but Shuichi is shy and doesn’t know how to reciprocate feelings. When he does find romance in his own life, he takes it seriously and weaves it into his stories. In a way, his stories are a reflection of his own feelings.

Ultimate Archer Kaede Akamatsu

Kaede discovered her love for archery when she was a youngchild. She, being a firm and devoted kind of person, would practice her skillsall the time; so much so that Kaede would sometimes forget to eat or sleep.

She was the President of her school’s Archery Club, and it quickly became herbiggest passion. Ever since she was able to hold a bow, she was doing it.

She has acute eyesight, more advanced than the average person, which is part ofthe reason why she’s so talented. 

Originally, Kaede’s family offered to takeher hunting which is where she started practicing. Her family would go out andtake her hunting even when she was just a couple years old, so it’s somethingshe’s always been around.

But Kaede is just too compassionate. The first time she shot an animal, shestarted crying. She was also never drawn to firearms and always felt much moreconnected with the bow. It seemed to just… call out to her.

Kaede has performed in front of many well-known archers before, including the formerUltimate Archer who graduated from Hope’s Peak many, many years before her. Heswears that she’s more talented than even he was.

She’s known as an ‘Archer Freak’ and no one messes with her since they knowwhat she can do with a bow. Kaede would never shoot a person, though.

She has such a strong leadership personality which is why she is the Presidentof Archery at Hope’s Peak. She’s a well-respected leader that everyone looks upto. Sometimes, she can come across as a bit too pushy; but that’sbecause she only wants to see her friends and club-mates flourish.

Kaede is quite optimistic. Rarely does she ever miss a shot, but if she doesshe always laughs it off and tries to not make a big deal out of it.

She dresses in typical archer fashion, consisting of boots and fur-jackets, with her bow and arrows strapped around her back. Kaede also wears a feather in her hair,

Ultimate Tattoo Artist Ryoma Hoshi

They say everyone has a gift, and Ryoma’s calling was art.He was constantly drawing and creating beautiful pieces of artwork ever since hecould pick up a pen. Even as a young child, it was his favorite thing to do.

He resorted to petty crime to afford funds for school which caused him to dosome jail-time. While in prison, Ryoma continued to draw but learned the art oftattooing. He noticed that the other inmates were covered and he… was not.

Ryoma, wanting to feel welcome and similar, decided to allow the other inmatesto give him prison tattoos. He has since covered them up with nicer ones aftergetting released but still cherishes the memories they hold. 

While in prison, he not only got tattooed but learned how to do so. This becamehis favorite form of art and now his passion and career, and he’s been tattooing eversince. 

Ryoma gained infamy when he began tattooing ex-felons and prisoners for free,covering up their poorly done prison tattoos with no charge. He became well-knownand respected because of it and earned enough in donations to open-up his ownshop as a teenager. 

His hard past and time in prison turned him into a cold man. He had a dry senseof humor and lost a lot of his loved ones after doing time. He considershimself a hard, stone-cold person and doesn’t really get close to people anymore. Hisclosest thing to a friendship are his frequent clients who are on a first-name basis. 

Ryoma has a piercing look and a harsh sense of justice. He will turn the coldshoulder to people whom he thinks deserves it. He fell into a fit of depressionand sometimes misses his former-self, but finds a reason to live in his art.

His favorite tattoos are the meaningful ones, particularly about family sincethat’s what he no longer has. He also loves animals, especially cats, and has agreat love for them even after turning cold. Because of this, pet tattoos arealso among his favorites.

Deep down, he still has faith in life. Ryoma loves having philosophical conversationswith his clients while they are getting tattooed.

Ultimate Botanist Himiko Yumeno

Himiko was always bullied for being different,due to her personality and mannerisms. Because of this, she turned to plantsand botany for comfort.

Her family comes from a long line of botanists, so she’s always been around it.Himiko was raised and taught the art as a child, originally her parent’sapprentice. She has a green thumb and knows how to nurture her beloved plantseven from the brink of death.

While she isn’t necessarily lazy, she does procrastinate. That’s why her plantsand flowers often die, or get close to it, but she’s always somehow able to bring them back healthily.

She was the self-proclaimed Ultimate Botanist even before she actually receivedthe title. Himiko often grew plants as gifts for people which some thought wasweird, but she insisted that her talent at taking care of plants was simplymagical.

She was accepted into a very advanced organization of botanists from around theworld, the youngest person to ever do so, that not even her family has beenaccepted into. She also won the Botanist of the Year Award, exceeding her family’sexpectations and surpassing them in terms of talent.

Now her gift-giving passion has reached out globally and she has anoverwhelming amount of clients wanting to buy her seeds and plants everywhere.

Himiko finds great pride in making people happy with her beautiful flowers. Herfavorite are the red flowers that resemble her hair.

She also tries to love them all but refrains from growing sunflowers andother tall plants and flowers because they make her feel even shorter than whatshe really is, which is something she’s very insecure about.

And Himiko falls in love pretty easily. So, what does she do? Grows bouquets ofbeautiful flowers, of course! She’s quite gullible so if she even suspects thatsomeone likes her, even as a joke, she’ll give them beautiful flowers andsloppy handwritten notes to try to impress them. A lot of people seem to thinkthis is quite dorky, but she appreciates the romantic gesture.

She gets quite defensive when someone claims that botany isn’t a real talent,and that anyone can do it. Himiko insists that you have to have the rightpersonality and passion for it.

- Mod Rantaro

[medea10]

My Review of Hell Girl: Fourth Twilight

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Congtats on reaching 2k followers very, very deserved. Had to restrain myself here but could I request 3, 10, 36 and 46. Hoping you get tons of asks so that we get to see them all anyway 😉

Thank you so so much, honey!!!! I appreciate all this love! And I probably will indeed write them all since the response I got was truly mindblowing! I thought I would get like two or three asks but now my inbox is overflowing and I’m typing away like a mad woman! At least I hope I’m doing your requests justice! Hope you enjoy!!

I’ve already written 36, 10 and 46 so click the numbers to check them out! Here is number 3!

3.     “Keep sweet-talking and this will go a whole new direction.”

“Stop messing with it, youlook great.” Betty groaned for like the millionth time, slapping his right handinches before it went to fidget once again with the silk grey tie around his neck.  For the whole half hour they were standinglooking elegant and fancy by the mahogany double entrance, her boyfriend couldn’t stopsquirming around his lanky limps or nervously poking at each and every item that hisoutfit consisted of.

Today was the twins’ christening and Jughead Jones along with Betty Cooper were the honorees of the evening, being the godparents of the two perpetually cheerful babies.

“I can’t help it, I feelawkward.” Jughead fired back in a hushed whisper, eyeing the people that werenow filling the small chapel, offering tight lip smiles to every distantrelative of the Cooper - Blossom family Betty warmly welcomed with her usual dashingsmile.

“It doesn’t help if you lookawkward too.” Kevin chipped in from behind the couple, dressed in a marooncolored suit and killing it, waiting for Veronica and Archie to appear so forthe three of them to take their assigned seats.

At Jughead’s more panickyexpression, Betty threw a cold glare over her shoulder at her best friend,silently demanding for him to shut up, the perfectly coiffured guy raising his hands in fake innocence. “Juggie, it is just a small ceremony.” She spoke in her most sweet and sugary voice, her French stylemanicured nails running over his tie as her fingers fixed it with great care. “It’llbe over before you even notice it, I promise.” She smiled warmly at him, hisblue eyes scanning her face and contagious grin for a moment before he wentback to his nervous mode.

“What if I forget my words?What if she starts crying and I can’t shush her? Oh God, what if I drop her?” he rambled in panic, eyes nearly falling off their sockets at the possibility of the last sentence as his mind created thedreadful image.

“What if a meteor strikes inthe middle of the christening and all of us go spiraling in pieces all aroundthe universe?” Kevin’s snarky voice interfered again the couple’s conversation, him taking great joy at pestering a rarely anxious Jughead Jones, and thistime Betty pressed hard the heel of her left midnight blue sandal against hisblack polished Oxford shoe, the boy yelling in pain and Betty offering him a “youdeserved this” side glance. She then took her boyfriend gently by the elbow,leading him further inside the church at a small corner.

“Juggie, listen to me.” She spokesoftly. “Polly picked you to be Lizzie’s godfather for a reason. First of allbecause you’re good with her, you’re good with children. You are the one thatmade her laugh for the first time, the one that she is always giggly and hyperaround. I swear she’s my biggest competition when it comes to your attention.” Jugheadcracked a small smile at that and Betty giggled, remembering the numerous timesthe small child would complain against her mother’s arms or throw a tantrum if Jughead was in the roomand he was not holding her, instead being preoccupied with cuddling hisbeautiful girl. At least Betty knew her niece had good taste in men.

“And she chose you because youare you;” he ran her hands up his arms until she laced her fingers behind hisneck, rocking against his body “sweet, caring, loyal, protective, with thehighest moral code of all of us and the most passion and drive to succeed, alwaysstanding independently on your own feet.” Betty listed some of the many pros of Jughead’s character, seeing him leave a cooing sigh at her encouraging words,trying to ease his nerves. “You’re the most suitable one for the role, Juggie.Lizzie is going to be so lucky to have you in her life.” When Polly hadproposed him being a godparent along with Betty for the twins, he was not surehe could handle such responsibility. Now with her in his arms and the way he appearedin her eyes, he knew he was going to be just fine.

“You really think so?” hebreathed, double-checking and prepping him up for the big event.

“I know so.” She confidentlyreplied in a heartbeat. “Plus, I can’t tell you enough how damn handsome youlook in this suit.” She added secretly, green eyes giving him a once over for the nth time that day andthe corner of her lips tugging up in appreciation at the sight.

Jughead raised his eyebrows, in shocked amusement. “Are you shamelessly flirting with me under the watchful eye of God, Elizabeth Cooper?” he gasped in fake offence, tightening the hold ofhis arms around the silk material of her elegant dress at the small of her waist.

“I’m just appreciating thebeauty in the world.” She shrugged in a what seemed like innocent girly mannerbut he knew better. “And damn baby, the way this button-up clings against yourabs can only be considered as a masterpiece.” She hummed in appreciation andbit her lip as her palm delivered a heavy caress over the bark blue silk that wasglued to the front of his muscular chest, feeling her cheeks heat up and not beable to restrain herself from letting her hand linger dangerously close to thewaistband of his grey slacks, making him hiss and exhale a deep breath to now calmhis teenage hormones.

“Keep sweet-talking, Betts, andthis will go a whole new direction.” He warned feeling his self-controlslipping, as he took hold of her wrist to remove her hand from that code redarea against his body, the fact that shealso looked like a bombshell in her off shoulder baby blue dress and sky highheels, a total change of paste from her usual comfy sweaters and skin tightjeans,not really helping with the situation either.

“That’s what I’m aiming for.” Bettysent him a look full of promises under her thicker for ther occasion eyelashes, Jugheadslightly groaning at those green eyes that always triggered something insidehim. “Keep the suit when you swing by my room later tonight. I can already think of afew ways for us to break it in.”

2k followers little prompts

[sparkiesnotes-blog]

Thoughts on Dear Evan Hansen

Overall rating: 4.5/5

Plot: 4/5

Songs: 4.5/5

For starters, it 100% deserved that Tony, any naysayers can go away, sorry. I love Great Comet and Groundhog day with all my heart and I wouldn’t have been upset to see them win, but I would have been surprised it wasn’t this wonderful musical.

As someone who has struggled with their mental health pretty much all their life, has gone through having people close to me commit suicide and has always used music and musical theatre as a guide and an escape from it, to hear that a musical was coming to broadway dealing with issues such as depression, anxiety and suicide in teens was too good to be true!

With the conversation surrounding mental health gradually getting more mainstream and more people are talking about it, a musical surrounding these themes couldn’t be more up my alley.

I’ve been excited for this musical ever since the lyrics came out and that was all I had to go off of. I knew all the words to the songs before the cast recording had even come out.

I think the songs perfectly sum up all the mish mash of feelings of when you’re in those low moments, the climactic song towards the end of the second act ‘Words Fail’ is both one of the most powerful performances from Ben Platt (a well deserved Tony, might I add) and perfectly rounds out the self hatred and pity that one can feel for oneself in a depressive state.

I feel like the representation of masculinity in this show is really important. Societal pressures on masculine identifying people tell them to keep quiet about their feelings and to keep them guarded and to not let anyone see. “Suicide is four times more common in men than women, and in 2005, 1,657 men took their own lives (ABS, 2007)” Source

To have the main character be a sensitive, non-stereotypical and intuitive teenage boy is incredibly important and necessary to see.

The only thing that I have a gripe with the show about is it is a little lacking in diversity. Coming from last years season where the four tony actor and actress award winners all went to people of colour going into a season that was back to a pretty whited out run (coughBandstandcough), it was disheartening to see only one black named character, Alana. When you look at the statistics in mental health in teens, the difference in teens of colour compared to white teenagers is astronomical. “A disproportionate number of suicides occurred among young male American Indians during this period—young men 15 to 24 accounted for 64 percent of all suicides by American Indians (CDC, 2001).” Source  

So, to not see this represented was disheartening, POC need this representation just as much as white people do. I hope that one day broadway can realise this.

While you can head cannon all you want (Evan and Connor are both trans and literally nothing you can say will stop me from believing it), the queer representation is appalling. From what I’ve researched (I haven’t had time to watch the full bootleg yet, but someone feel free to correct me if I’m wrong!), its not even outrightly stated that Jared is gay. Its just the stereotypes played out. Again, in queer teens mental health is a huge issue, the discrepancy between queer youth and cisgender heterosexual youth in mental health is disgustingly drastic.

“Compared to the general population, LGBTI people are more likely to attempt suicide in their lifetime, specifically:

LGBTI young people aged 16 to 27 are five times more likely

Transgender people aged 18 and over are nearly eleven times more likely

People with an Intersex variation aged 16 and over are nearly six times more likely

LGBT young people who experience abuse and harassment are even more likely to attempt suicide”

Source

Obviously, I’m not saying that every story is able to be told in one singular musical, but for a musical to be claiming to represent mental health in teens, and then missing out representing the biggest proportion of teens who have these problems, is very sad to see.

Before I go into a talk through of each song below the cut I want to say that I truly love this musical. On days when it was hard to get out of bed or thought it would be better if I were to disappear, this musical has honestly pulled me out of those gutters.

I completely understand that this musical means a lot to some people, and I 100% empathise with why and I’m so happy for you that this musical was able to help you and I. I’m able to enjoy it despite its flaws, of which there are very few, and I definitely come from the mindset of the people who really love something are the most critical of it. 

If you haven’t yet, give Dear Evan Hansen a listen! However I recommend reading the Wikipedia synopsis along with it as the plot can be hard to understand from just the soundtrack! Talk through of the soundtrack/spoliers below the cut

- Sparky <3

Anybody have a map? - I think this is a perfect example and representation of how hopeless and helpless a parent can feel when trying to support a struggling teen. Also, in this show is a wonderful representation of single mothers and I think this song sets it up well.

The harmonies in are beautiful, I love harmonies in any song, add a harmony to anything and I’ll love it I promise. 

Waving through a window - Ahhhh I love this song a lot. Close to my favourite. This was the song I first read the lyrics to before the musical came out and I just aGH. It perfectly sums up social anxiety in a string of beautiful and melodic metaphors. The idea of “Waving through a window” and questioning whether anyone is waving back is something that many people, including myself, have gone through or are going through. A beautiful, beautiful song and message for a all too relatable topic.

Ben Platt’s combination of soft almost soothing notes with the belting of the final notes in the song is perfect. I can’t think of another adjective to describe it.

For Forever - A beautiful melody mixed with a beautiful fantasy. The fact that this is him imagining what it would be like to have a friend is heartbreaking. The voice crack on “He’s coming to get me”, gets ME everytime. 

Also Ben Platt can hit a high note holy poop.

Sincerely Me - For a pretty dark musical, this song is the perfect uplifting BANGER. Doing the dance to myself in the car on the freeway is dangerous though, would not recommend.

The no homo moment in it is a bit :/ though.

Requiem - I’ve got to admit the first few times I heard this song I didn’t like it. I hated the idea of someone saying that they were glad that their brother was dead and asking why they should miss them. I hated the idea of a person who is suicidal sitting in that audience or listening at home, hearing what they already believed for themselves what Zoe was saying, that they wouldn’t be missed. 

But it wasn’t until a friend pointed out what this song was really saying, how it was representing different ways of dealing with grief until I realised that it was incredibly important. I now love this song.

If I could tell her -  Ugh. I have so many gripes with this song I’m sorry.

First of all anyone who sees this song as a love song I have questions for you.

This song is so idealising of Zoe, and so ‘manic pixie dream girly’ I die. 

I get the social anxiety side of it. I get having all of these thoughts bubbling inside of you and being too anxious to tell someone, I get it, trust me. 

But its the fact that he says “I love you”, I’m sorry but you can’t love someone you’ve never spoken to before. You can love the idea of a person. You can like how a person looks or acts. But you cannot love them.

And the fact that this is all being said as if it were Connor, her dead brother is just so messed up. I get that thats the point but, I just worry that people will see this song as ‘goals’ or ‘I wish someone would think/ do that for me’ when it is NOT a healthy outlook on women, love or just people.

It’s a lovely song, but I wish it was less idealising and was phrased differently. Less ‘not like other girls’ please.

Disappear - No one does deserve to disappear. Some days it was only this song that could tell me that.

You will be found - This is my favourite song on the soundtrack. I love this song so much. I have the lyrics as a sticker on my laptop and in a frame next to my bed. I have one distinct memory of this song.

It was a really dark moment, I had woken up from some horrific nightmares, was in the midst of a bad brain time and all I wanted was to go back to sleep, forever. But I had work that day, I had stuff to do. I put on this song and at the end of it, I was crying and getting up to get in the shower, something I didn’t even realise I was capable of that day. This song gives me so much motivation, I do have other songs that do the same things, but the fact that this is up there with other songs, is big for me.

If you listen to one song from this musical, listen to this one. You will not regret it.

“Let that lonely feeling wash away Maybe there’s a reason to believe you’ll be okay ‘Cause when you don’t feel strong enough to stand You can reach, reach out your hand

And oh, someone will coming running And I know, they’ll take you home

Even when the dark comes crashing through When you need a friend to carry you And when you’re broken on the ground You will be found”

To break in a glove - Eh. I like the message. But, you know how theres that one song in a musical you always skip over? This is mine :-)

Only us - Can Laura Dreyfuss make a lullaby?? Please?? She has such a soothing and beautiful voice I love it so much.

This song is a really good representation of what its like to date someone with a mental illness. Its a beautiful duet and I love it to pieces.

Good for you -  Literally the best song if you just need to be angry. This song ignites a fury in me like little else can. All I want to do is PUNCh stuff after I listen to it, I love it. Amazing.

Words Fail - Ben Platt deserved that Tony and if you want an example of why just listen to this. It’s beautiful, simple, elegant and heartbreakingly sad all at once.

So big/so small - Single mothers need to be worshipped by every person on earth I’m pretty sure its in the Bible. I also think this is really good representation of what a kid needs from their parent when going through a mental health spiral, undying and unconditional support and love.

Finale - :’), Honestly incredible. I don’t know how many ways I can say I love this musical, but I do, I really do. 

“Today is going to be a good day. And here's why: 

because today, today at least you're you and—that's enough.​“

I love this musical and I will cherish it always.

I know the sort of people who would be listening to it though, so I’m going to say that my PM’s are open and so is my ask box, if you ever want to chat.

If you need urgent care/attention, please contact lifeline or the equivalent in your country.

<3

[beyondforks]

Release Day Review! Body Parts by Jessica Kapp

Body Parts by Jessica Kapp Genre: Young Adult (Science Fiction) Date Published: August 15,  2017 Publisher: Diversion Publishing

People would kill for her body.

Raised in an elite foster center off the California coast, sixteen-year-old Tabitha’s been sculpted into a world-class athlete. Her trainers have told her she’ll need to be in top physical condition to be matched with a loving family, even though personal health has taken a backseat outside the training facility. While Tabitha swims laps and shaves seconds off her mile time, hoping to find a permanent home, the rest of the community takes pills produced by pharmaceutical giant PharmPerfect to erase their wrinkles, grow hair, and develop superhuman strength.

When Tabitha’s finally paired, instead of being taken to meet her new parents, she wakes up immobile on a hospital bed. Moments before she’s sliced open, a group of renegade teenagers rescues her, and she learns the real reason for her perfect health: PharmPerfect is using her foster program as a replacement factory for their pill-addicted clients’ failing organs. And her friends from the center, the only family she’s ever known, are next in line to be harvested.

Determined to save them, Tabitha joins forces with her rescuers, led by moody and mysterious Gavin Stiles. As they race to infiltrate the hospital and uncover the rest of PharmPerfect’s secrets, though, Tabitha finds herself with more questions than answers. Will trusting the enigmatic group of rebels lead her back to the slaughterhouse? 

Body Parts by Jessica Kapp got my attention with it's cover, lured me in with the blurb, and it kept me with the story itself. I really enjoyed the main character, Tabitha. She was athletic, smart, spunky, and just naive enough to be believable. She was an honest and loyal person too, which I really liked, because I didn't trust anyone else in this book. Not a single person. I mentally questioned them all at one point or another. There were so many aspects of this society that can be applied to us today. Are we as far gone as these people? I don't think so. Not yet anyway, but it is something that you can easily see happening. The pacing was spot on. It sped up and slowed down as needed, but it never dragged. I was never bored. I'll be watching for more books by this author.

The ARC of Body Parts by Jessica Kapp was kindly provided to me by the publisher through Net Galley for review. The opinions are my own.

CHAPTER 1 Ten seconds. That's how much air I have left. I peek at Paige, her body submerged next to me. Stray hairs float around her face. She looks peaceful like she found a way to sleep underwater. The chlorine stings my eyes so I shut them, letting my mind fill with fuzz until all I hear is the cadence of my heart — the sluggish beat coursing all the way to my fingertips. Five seconds. My chest burns. Three. Two. A tap on my head tells me it's over. I break the surface and take in shallow, painful gulps of air. The edges of my vision swim with black and someone grips my arm to keep me from slipping back under. Parker's blurry face comes into focus as he anchors my limp body on the side of the pool. "You did it. You won." When I manage a smile through my fit of coughs he hoists me out and places me next to Paige so our legs are dangling in the water. She kicks me playfully. "Show-off." "You almost had me." "Almost." Her eyes flit across the gymnasium to the exit door and her smile fades. "Almost isn't good enough for them." A shiver creeps through me, shaking some of the strength out of my voice. "If a family can't see how great you are, they don't deserve you." She nods as if she's trying to convince herself. I'm not sure I believe me either. If we were good enough, why hasn't a family fostered us by now? There's laughter behind us, producing boisterous energy that drowns out the thoughts in my head. Paige's slightly purple lips curl. "You have a point, I am pretty great." She extends her hand. "But, so are you. Nice job." Our grip is weak and our handshake is soft like the bones have been removed from our fingers. We let go and I lean into her, content to sit here doing nothing. Days are so scheduled at the Center of Excellence, relaxing is a luxury. Parker squats down next to me and holds out the stopwatch our trainer left on his chair — the one we're not supposed to touch. "Two minutes, thirteen seconds. That's your best time yet, Tabitha." A personal best. I should be proud. I am proud. But without a trainer to witness it, to record it on my chart, it might as well read zero. My only hope is that I can do it again. Prove to potential parents that I take my health as seriously as my studies — that I'd be a productive and responsible addition to their family. That I'm worth taking a chance on. Paige's self-doubt is contagious. I don't know why we do this to ourselves, why we feel the need to compete when our trainers are on a break. They put enough pressure on us already. Tears prick my eyes and I push the stopwatch out of my face. "All right. Who's next?" "Me!" exclaims Paige's identical twin. Her hand shoots into the air as she struts toward Parker. Meghan likes to claim she's older, but none of our trainers can confirm it. She's so different than Paige, I wouldn't even believe they shared DNA if it weren't for their looks: olive skin, high cheekbones, and plenty of curves. Their presence commands attention. Meghan pokes Parker in the chest when he stands. "What d'ya say? We can swim laps if you don't want to hold your breath." She cocks her head to the side until her thick brown hair kisses her shoulders. Unlike Paige, she never wears it up. She says it makes her feel more girly, but I think she just wants to be normal, like girls on the television shows we get to watch — our only connection to the outside. "You're the fish, not me." He waves Meghan away then helps Paige to her feet. He pulls me up next and our eyes lock long enough for me to see his dread. Parker struggles in the pool. He blames his muscle density, but I know it's really just fear. When he was younger, a trainer held him underwater because he wouldn't get in the pool. Parker thought he was going to die. If I had enough energy, I'd take his place against Meghan. I know he'd do the same for me. His confidence may dissolve in the water, but at the Center, he's my rock. He points a thumb at the wall kitty-corner to us. "Rope climb?" "Not a chance." Meghan dives in with a splash. She is just as motivated as the rest of us to prove she can be the best. Drive and discipline are two of the things the Center teaches us. It's why families agree to open their homes to us instead of kids at a traditional state facility. I glance at the mantra above the rock wall. The letters are partially hidden behind three ropes connected to a metal beam in the ceiling, but I can still make out the words: "It's what's on the inside that counts." The phrase gives me hope that our hard work will pay off someday. Before Parker and Meghan can decide on a new challenge, the exit door buzzes. Parker tucks the stopwatch behind his back. My breath catches when I notice it's not a trainer — it's Ms. Preen. And, she's holding a red file, which can only mean one thing. One of us is getting out. Her heels make quick, light clicks as she crosses the floor past the weight equipment and yoga mats. She crinkles her nose as she moves through the thick cloud of sweat. By the time she reaches us, Meghan's out of the pool. We stand, two-dozen bodies huddled together, anxious to hear the news. I scan my friends' faces, wondering whose turn it is to go. Parker wraps his free arm around me. I imagine this is how a gymnast feels after a routine, waiting for her scores. Did I perform well enough? Could I have done more? Will I win the ultimate prize: a family? Ms. Preen presses through to the pool area, but stands far from our group, as if she thinks we'll throw her in. It's crossed our minds before. The light shines off her blonde bob and her face is flawless. Freezedried, we like to say. "Where is she?" Ms. Preen looks at our group as if she can't tell us apart, which is probably true. Even though she pops in at least once a month to check on our vitals, she isn't interested in getting to know us. She's the one in charge of pairing us with families, but all she knows is what we're good at. Meghan is the fast one; Paige climbs like she's part monkey; Parker's built like a brick house; and me, I have the lungs. "The redhead, where is she?" All eyes turn to me. "We have names, you know," Paige says, her voice curt. "Hers is Tabitha. T-A-B ..." Ms. Preen pulls a piece of paper out of the file, holding it up toward the row of skylights to read it. "Yes. She's the one." Parker tightens his hold on me and I clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking. Ms. Preen doesn't need to know I'm nervous. I'm supposed to be elated, ready to go. Maybe I've been fooling myself. I wriggle out of Parker's grip to step forward. "That's me." Ms. Preen looks at me, then to the pool, with a trace of disgust. "We were getting in some extra laps." Paige laughs and I dip my head to hide my smile. Ms. Preen shoves the paper back into the file. "Get dressed. I'm taking you for your final screening. If you pass, you'll be out tomorrow." Her voice is hard and she turns to walk away. I glance back at the group, at the faces I've known since childhood. They're excited for me, but I can see the disappointment in their eyes. I know the look, because up until today I've watched friends leave, waiting for my turn. Now that it is, I can't move. Paige gives me a weak smile and, for a moment, I think she's going to lean in for a hug. Instead she crosses her arms, squeezing herself tight. "If you're not back by dinner, we'll save you some broccoli." I wonder if I'll be able to eat at all. Paige has always been good at masking the pain with humor. It makes me sad to know she's doing it for my sake. I don't want to be mourned. I keep my tone light as I march toward the sleeping quarters on the opposite end of the gym. "Don't do me any favors." As I slip through the girls' door, it feels like the walls and low ceiling immediately box me in. When I first transferred here, I missed the bright colors and patterns. Brain noise. The facility for younger kids felt more alive. Freer. Here, it's like being in a cage; except right now it's almost comforting. I'm not sure I want to leave. But isn't this what I wanted, the chance to have a family? I curse myself for being such a coward and swallow my fear, pretending Ms. Preen's news doesn't affect me. Water drips off me while I rummage through my dresser. I pull out a sweatshirt that smells like sweat and perseverance. It's cold where we sleep, but it feels especially uncomfortable today — like the room has already forgotten me. Soon my bed will be occupied, filled by someone else, someone still waiting to be fostered. I'll be a record on the wall, a memory in the minds of those who trained with me until they're gone too. The crisp air fills my lungs as I peel off my bathing suit. I change quickly because Ms. Preen has as much patience as she does wrinkles. I can almost hear her call my name when I step back out into the gymnasium. I know I'm imagining things though — Ms. Preen wouldn't waste the energy to yell. My heart speeds up when I see the train of people waiting by the exit. On a normal day, everyone would be lining up to eat lunch in the room that divides the boys' and girls' sleeping quarters. It's also where we feed our brains with books and homework. But today is different. Everyone's waiting to wish me luck. It's tradition. Paige has her face pressed against the mirror near the exit, trying to look through it. We know visiting parents can see us because the last person that was fostered caught a glimpse of the one-way window when he came back from his screening. Ever since we learned that's how they watch us, like fish in an aquarium, our training has improved. I've worked extra hard. I should be excited I've reached the end. Only, I'm not. Parker hangs his head as I walk by, his black hair falls past his eyes. I want to push the locks back, tell him everything will be fine, but I resist the temptation. I don't have to see his eyes to know my leaving will be hardest on him. The door opens as I reach for the handle. Ms. Preen is already on the other side and waves her hand for me to step through and it shuts behind me with a thud before I can look back. I know I'll get to see them one last time, but my eyes well up. It already feels like goodbye. * * * The drive to the clinic took less than fifteen minutes, but we've been waiting to see the doctor for over an hour. Ms. Preen digs a fingernail into my back and I sit up straight. "Did you take your medicine today?" She checks her manicure for any flaws before placing her hand back in her lap. I nod and squint at the clock on the wall to make sure it's moving. It is. Finally, a nurse at the reception area waves us over. We walk toward the door that leads out of the waiting room. A woman with tight black curls is sitting at the door punching buttons on a keypad. When she notices I'm watching her, she shifts her body until the numbers are out of my line of sight. "Is it going to hurt?" I ask her. I already know the answer is yes, but I want her to say something soothing, to ease my fear. Like a mother would. Instead, she replies, "You'll get over it." There's a loud buzz and the door clicks open. It's brighter in the hallway — white, but not a clean white. The walls look aged, like teeth that haven't been brushed for weeks. My nose burns from the mixture of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant in the air. The nurse unlocks a six-paneled door with the name Doctor Morgan on the front. "Have a seat," she says to Ms. Preen. I decide to stand until the offer is extended to me, but Ms. Preen grabs the side of my sweatshirt and yanks. "Tabitha. Sit." A thread snaps when she tugs again and I take a seat. It's an old sweatshirt anyway, more for warm-ups than meeting my new family. I wonder if Ms. Preen will give me something nicer to wear. If I pass the health screening. "Fill this out. The doctor will be here shortly." The nurse hands Ms. Preen a clipboard with a pen dangling from a rubber band that's been made into a string. When she leaves, Ms. Preen begins to fill out the form, repeating every question and answer while I gaze over. NAME: Tabitha Rhodes HEIGHT: 5'6" AGE: 16 EYE COLOR: Green HAIR COLOR: Red "I'd say strawberry blonde," I correct her. "You're a redhead." "But in the summer my hair gets lighter." "Well it's spring, so I picked red." She fills out the last question in silence. UNIQUE CHARACTERISTIC(S): Excellent vision and premium lung capacity. Check for 31 Processing. She tilts the paper away from me when I point. I'm not sure what 31 means — maybe how many tests they'll run on me? I hope it's not the number of shots I'm going to get. When she's finished, she slides the pen underneath the metal clip that holds the paper. "That's it?" The questionnaire is so short it seems pointless. "Don't they want to know a little about me? Maybe you can write about foods I like or my favorite movies?" "Why all the questions? Don't you want to be fostered?" "Of course I do. It's just ... what if they change their mind? Don't tell them I have freckles." She lets out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sure they'll assume a redhead has freckles." "You're right." I rub the back of my neck. I'm anxious about the skin sample and gigantic needle I've been told about. Folding her hands on top of the clipboard in her lap, she adds, "They've reviewed your profile and you're a perfect match. That's how it works. End of story." Her words do little to reassure me. I grab one of the magazines in a wooden rack hanging on the wall. It's the Gladstone Community Review, and on the cover is a picture of a family sitting under a tree having a picnic. The mom is wearing a white dress with red polka dots while she feeds the dad a strawberry. Their kids are laughing and holding sandwiches that overflow with layers of meat and cheese. I feel a pang of jealousy, even though I know it's not real because the people in the picture probably don't even know each other. They most likely just have to sit there for a few clicks of the camera before going back to their real lives. Maybe they even get to keep the sandwiches. But I still want what they're portraying: a happy family. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. Maybe I'll have a family like the ones on the movies and shows we get to watch. My personal favorite is a forty-year-old sitcom called Growing Pains. The Seavers adopted Luke, included him in every activity, and treated him like he belonged there the entire time. Maybe that will happen for me. Maybe my family will sit around on a lazy Sunday playing board games. We could go on camping trips where my dad can teach me how to fish. It'll be perfect. My dream fades when the door opens. A man with hair like a Ken doll walks toward me. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he says with a wink. Ms. Preen's bright red lips widen into a grin, exposing her veneers. I try to copy her, but when I smile, I feel like I'm just showing the doctor that my teeth are straight. It's hard to get excited when I know nothing about the family willing to foster me. He reaches for the clipboard and pulls a tiny round stool out from under the desk. "I was just reviewing your file," he says as he sits down. His eyes shuttle from me to Ms. Preen and then back to my chart. "I noticed you're taking medication ..." "Just one, sir." "For her heart condition," Ms. Preen says. "She takes Propannalean once a day." "Ah yes, I remember the note now." The doctor scribbles something on the form. "How long has she been taking that?" "We discovered the condition when we took her in." "I understand." He gives her a sharp nod and turns to me. "Have you had any major injuries?" "No." "Any diseases?" "Not that I know of." He looks at Ms. Preen and she shakes her head. "We've cared for her since she was six. She was transferred to the Center for Excellence when she turned twelve." "How many hours a day does she train?" "Eight." Ms. Preen leans forward. "Even though she missed six years with us, I can assure you, Dr. Morgan, her physical condition is excellent." She pauses. "And since she's sixteen and her body has — how should I put it — matured, you can do all the tests, correct?" I cringe as the doctor gives a knowing smile and jots down some notes on the paper. He should just use a marker and write it on my forehead: Tabitha is a woman now. Apparently, that means I qualify for the full range of tests. Lucky me. When he's done, he puts the clipboard down and his eyes fix on mine. "I'm sure Ms. Preen has explained to you that we'll be drawing blood and running a series of tests to ensure you're in optimal health." "She has." "Then let's get to work."

Jessica Kapp always thought her penmanship would improve with age. She even wished for it on her eleventh birthday. But after having a hard time deciphering her own writing, she realized she’d never be the girl who stayed in the lines or dotted her I’s with hearts.To improve her legibility and speed, she hijacked her grandma’s typewriter—a really cool one with white correction tape—and started creating fictional worlds. That same grandma took Jessica to her first writers’ group meeting where she shared a story about fairies. The writing sucked, but with time, Jessica’s craft began to improve. Sadly, her penmanship has not. Jessica enjoys writing Young Adult Contemporary and Speculative Fiction. Story ideas often strike at inopportune times, and she’s been known to text herself reminders from under the covers. She lives on a small farm in Washington with far too many goats and an occasional cow. To learn more about Jessica Kapp and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter.

[beyondforks]

Book Review! Body Parts by Jessica Kapp

Body Parts by Jessica Kapp Genre: Young Adult (Science Fiction) Date Published: August 15,  2017 Publisher: Diversion Publishing

People would kill for her body.

Raised in an elite foster center off the California coast, sixteen-year-old Tabitha’s been sculpted into a world-class athlete. Her trainers have told her she’ll need to be in top physical condition to be matched with a loving family, even though personal health has taken a backseat outside the training facility. While Tabitha swims laps and shaves seconds off her mile time, hoping to find a permanent home, the rest of the community takes pills produced by pharmaceutical giant PharmPerfect to erase their wrinkles, grow hair, and develop superhuman strength.

When Tabitha’s finally paired, instead of being taken to meet her new parents, she wakes up immobile on a hospital bed. Moments before she’s sliced open, a group of renegade teenagers rescues her, and she learns the real reason for her perfect health: PharmPerfect is using her foster program as a replacement factory for their pill-addicted clients’ failing organs. And her friends from the center, the only family she’s ever known, are next in line to be harvested.

Determined to save them, Tabitha joins forces with her rescuers, led by moody and mysterious Gavin Stiles. As they race to infiltrate the hospital and uncover the rest of PharmPerfect’s secrets, though, Tabitha finds herself with more questions than answers. Will trusting the enigmatic group of rebels lead her back to the slaughterhouse? 

Body Parts by Jessica Kapp got my attention with it's cover, lured me in with the blurb, and it kept me with the story itself. I really enjoyed the main character, Tabitha. She was athletic, smart, spunky, and just naive enough to be believable. She was an honest and loyal person too, which I really liked, because I didn't trust anyone else in this book. Not a single person. I mentally questioned them all at one point or another. There were so many aspects of this society that can be applied to us today. Are we as far gone as these people? I don't think so. Not yet anyway, but it is something that you can easily see happening. The pacing was spot on. It sped up and slowed down as needed, but it never dragged. I was never bored. I'll be watching for more books by this author.

The ARC of Body Parts by Jessica Kapp was kindly provided to me by the publisher through Net Galley for review. The opinions are my own.

CHAPTER 1 Ten seconds. That's how much air I have left. I peek at Paige, her body submerged next to me. Stray hairs float around her face. She looks peaceful like she found a way to sleep underwater. The chlorine stings my eyes so I shut them, letting my mind fill with fuzz until all I hear is the cadence of my heart — the sluggish beat coursing all the way to my fingertips. Five seconds. My chest burns. Three. Two. A tap on my head tells me it's over. I break the surface and take in shallow, painful gulps of air. The edges of my vision swim with black and someone grips my arm to keep me from slipping back under. Parker's blurry face comes into focus as he anchors my limp body on the side of the pool. "You did it. You won." When I manage a smile through my fit of coughs he hoists me out and places me next to Paige so our legs are dangling in the water. She kicks me playfully. "Show-off." "You almost had me." "Almost." Her eyes flit across the gymnasium to the exit door and her smile fades. "Almost isn't good enough for them." A shiver creeps through me, shaking some of the strength out of my voice. "If a family can't see how great you are, they don't deserve you." She nods as if she's trying to convince herself. I'm not sure I believe me either. If we were good enough, why hasn't a family fostered us by now? There's laughter behind us, producing boisterous energy that drowns out the thoughts in my head. Paige's slightly purple lips curl. "You have a point, I am pretty great." She extends her hand. "But, so are you. Nice job." Our grip is weak and our handshake is soft like the bones have been removed from our fingers. We let go and I lean into her, content to sit here doing nothing. Days are so scheduled at the Center of Excellence, relaxing is a luxury. Parker squats down next to me and holds out the stopwatch our trainer left on his chair — the one we're not supposed to touch. "Two minutes, thirteen seconds. That's your best time yet, Tabitha." A personal best. I should be proud. I am proud. But without a trainer to witness it, to record it on my chart, it might as well read zero. My only hope is that I can do it again. Prove to potential parents that I take my health as seriously as my studies — that I'd be a productive and responsible addition to their family. That I'm worth taking a chance on. Paige's self-doubt is contagious. I don't know why we do this to ourselves, why we feel the need to compete when our trainers are on a break. They put enough pressure on us already. Tears prick my eyes and I push the stopwatch out of my face. "All right. Who's next?" "Me!" exclaims Paige's identical twin. Her hand shoots into the air as she struts toward Parker. Meghan likes to claim she's older, but none of our trainers can confirm it. She's so different than Paige, I wouldn't even believe they shared DNA if it weren't for their looks: olive skin, high cheekbones, and plenty of curves. Their presence commands attention. Meghan pokes Parker in the chest when he stands. "What d'ya say? We can swim laps if you don't want to hold your breath." She cocks her head to the side until her thick brown hair kisses her shoulders. Unlike Paige, she never wears it up. She says it makes her feel more girly, but I think she just wants to be normal, like girls on the television shows we get to watch — our only connection to the outside. "You're the fish, not me." He waves Meghan away then helps Paige to her feet. He pulls me up next and our eyes lock long enough for me to see his dread. Parker struggles in the pool. He blames his muscle density, but I know it's really just fear. When he was younger, a trainer held him underwater because he wouldn't get in the pool. Parker thought he was going to die. If I had enough energy, I'd take his place against Meghan. I know he'd do the same for me. His confidence may dissolve in the water, but at the Center, he's my rock. He points a thumb at the wall kitty-corner to us. "Rope climb?" "Not a chance." Meghan dives in with a splash. She is just as motivated as the rest of us to prove she can be the best. Drive and discipline are two of the things the Center teaches us. It's why families agree to open their homes to us instead of kids at a traditional state facility. I glance at the mantra above the rock wall. The letters are partially hidden behind three ropes connected to a metal beam in the ceiling, but I can still make out the words: "It's what's on the inside that counts." The phrase gives me hope that our hard work will pay off someday. Before Parker and Meghan can decide on a new challenge, the exit door buzzes. Parker tucks the stopwatch behind his back. My breath catches when I notice it's not a trainer — it's Ms. Preen. And, she's holding a red file, which can only mean one thing. One of us is getting out. Her heels make quick, light clicks as she crosses the floor past the weight equipment and yoga mats. She crinkles her nose as she moves through the thick cloud of sweat. By the time she reaches us, Meghan's out of the pool. We stand, two-dozen bodies huddled together, anxious to hear the news. I scan my friends' faces, wondering whose turn it is to go. Parker wraps his free arm around me. I imagine this is how a gymnast feels after a routine, waiting for her scores. Did I perform well enough? Could I have done more? Will I win the ultimate prize: a family? Ms. Preen presses through to the pool area, but stands far from our group, as if she thinks we'll throw her in. It's crossed our minds before. The light shines off her blonde bob and her face is flawless. Freezedried, we like to say. "Where is she?" Ms. Preen looks at our group as if she can't tell us apart, which is probably true. Even though she pops in at least once a month to check on our vitals, she isn't interested in getting to know us. She's the one in charge of pairing us with families, but all she knows is what we're good at. Meghan is the fast one; Paige climbs like she's part monkey; Parker's built like a brick house; and me, I have the lungs. "The redhead, where is she?" All eyes turn to me. "We have names, you know," Paige says, her voice curt. "Hers is Tabitha. T-A-B ..." Ms. Preen pulls a piece of paper out of the file, holding it up toward the row of skylights to read it. "Yes. She's the one." Parker tightens his hold on me and I clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking. Ms. Preen doesn't need to know I'm nervous. I'm supposed to be elated, ready to go. Maybe I've been fooling myself. I wriggle out of Parker's grip to step forward. "That's me." Ms. Preen looks at me, then to the pool, with a trace of disgust. "We were getting in some extra laps." Paige laughs and I dip my head to hide my smile. Ms. Preen shoves the paper back into the file. "Get dressed. I'm taking you for your final screening. If you pass, you'll be out tomorrow." Her voice is hard and she turns to walk away. I glance back at the group, at the faces I've known since childhood. They're excited for me, but I can see the disappointment in their eyes. I know the look, because up until today I've watched friends leave, waiting for my turn. Now that it is, I can't move. Paige gives me a weak smile and, for a moment, I think she's going to lean in for a hug. Instead she crosses her arms, squeezing herself tight. "If you're not back by dinner, we'll save you some broccoli." I wonder if I'll be able to eat at all. Paige has always been good at masking the pain with humor. It makes me sad to know she's doing it for my sake. I don't want to be mourned. I keep my tone light as I march toward the sleeping quarters on the opposite end of the gym. "Don't do me any favors." As I slip through the girls' door, it feels like the walls and low ceiling immediately box me in. When I first transferred here, I missed the bright colors and patterns. Brain noise. The facility for younger kids felt more alive. Freer. Here, it's like being in a cage; except right now it's almost comforting. I'm not sure I want to leave. But isn't this what I wanted, the chance to have a family? I curse myself for being such a coward and swallow my fear, pretending Ms. Preen's news doesn't affect me. Water drips off me while I rummage through my dresser. I pull out a sweatshirt that smells like sweat and perseverance. It's cold where we sleep, but it feels especially uncomfortable today — like the room has already forgotten me. Soon my bed will be occupied, filled by someone else, someone still waiting to be fostered. I'll be a record on the wall, a memory in the minds of those who trained with me until they're gone too. The crisp air fills my lungs as I peel off my bathing suit. I change quickly because Ms. Preen has as much patience as she does wrinkles. I can almost hear her call my name when I step back out into the gymnasium. I know I'm imagining things though — Ms. Preen wouldn't waste the energy to yell. My heart speeds up when I see the train of people waiting by the exit. On a normal day, everyone would be lining up to eat lunch in the room that divides the boys' and girls' sleeping quarters. It's also where we feed our brains with books and homework. But today is different. Everyone's waiting to wish me luck. It's tradition. Paige has her face pressed against the mirror near the exit, trying to look through it. We know visiting parents can see us because the last person that was fostered caught a glimpse of the one-way window when he came back from his screening. Ever since we learned that's how they watch us, like fish in an aquarium, our training has improved. I've worked extra hard. I should be excited I've reached the end. Only, I'm not. Parker hangs his head as I walk by, his black hair falls past his eyes. I want to push the locks back, tell him everything will be fine, but I resist the temptation. I don't have to see his eyes to know my leaving will be hardest on him. The door opens as I reach for the handle. Ms. Preen is already on the other side and waves her hand for me to step through and it shuts behind me with a thud before I can look back. I know I'll get to see them one last time, but my eyes well up. It already feels like goodbye. * * * The drive to the clinic took less than fifteen minutes, but we've been waiting to see the doctor for over an hour. Ms. Preen digs a fingernail into my back and I sit up straight. "Did you take your medicine today?" She checks her manicure for any flaws before placing her hand back in her lap. I nod and squint at the clock on the wall to make sure it's moving. It is. Finally, a nurse at the reception area waves us over. We walk toward the door that leads out of the waiting room. A woman with tight black curls is sitting at the door punching buttons on a keypad. When she notices I'm watching her, she shifts her body until the numbers are out of my line of sight. "Is it going to hurt?" I ask her. I already know the answer is yes, but I want her to say something soothing, to ease my fear. Like a mother would. Instead, she replies, "You'll get over it." There's a loud buzz and the door clicks open. It's brighter in the hallway — white, but not a clean white. The walls look aged, like teeth that haven't been brushed for weeks. My nose burns from the mixture of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant in the air. The nurse unlocks a six-paneled door with the name Doctor Morgan on the front. "Have a seat," she says to Ms. Preen. I decide to stand until the offer is extended to me, but Ms. Preen grabs the side of my sweatshirt and yanks. "Tabitha. Sit." A thread snaps when she tugs again and I take a seat. It's an old sweatshirt anyway, more for warm-ups than meeting my new family. I wonder if Ms. Preen will give me something nicer to wear. If I pass the health screening. "Fill this out. The doctor will be here shortly." The nurse hands Ms. Preen a clipboard with a pen dangling from a rubber band that's been made into a string. When she leaves, Ms. Preen begins to fill out the form, repeating every question and answer while I gaze over. NAME: Tabitha Rhodes HEIGHT: 5'6" AGE: 16 EYE COLOR: Green HAIR COLOR: Red "I'd say strawberry blonde," I correct her. "You're a redhead." "But in the summer my hair gets lighter." "Well it's spring, so I picked red." She fills out the last question in silence. UNIQUE CHARACTERISTIC(S): Excellent vision and premium lung capacity. Check for 31 Processing. She tilts the paper away from me when I point. I'm not sure what 31 means — maybe how many tests they'll run on me? I hope it's not the number of shots I'm going to get. When she's finished, she slides the pen underneath the metal clip that holds the paper. "That's it?" The questionnaire is so short it seems pointless. "Don't they want to know a little about me? Maybe you can write about foods I like or my favorite movies?" "Why all the questions? Don't you want to be fostered?" "Of course I do. It's just ... what if they change their mind? Don't tell them I have freckles." She lets out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sure they'll assume a redhead has freckles." "You're right." I rub the back of my neck. I'm anxious about the skin sample and gigantic needle I've been told about. Folding her hands on top of the clipboard in her lap, she adds, "They've reviewed your profile and you're a perfect match. That's how it works. End of story." Her words do little to reassure me. I grab one of the magazines in a wooden rack hanging on the wall. It's the Gladstone Community Review, and on the cover is a picture of a family sitting under a tree having a picnic. The mom is wearing a white dress with red polka dots while she feeds the dad a strawberry. Their kids are laughing and holding sandwiches that overflow with layers of meat and cheese. I feel a pang of jealousy, even though I know it's not real because the people in the picture probably don't even know each other. They most likely just have to sit there for a few clicks of the camera before going back to their real lives. Maybe they even get to keep the sandwiches. But I still want what they're portraying: a happy family. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. Maybe I'll have a family like the ones on the movies and shows we get to watch. My personal favorite is a forty-year-old sitcom called Growing Pains. The Seavers adopted Luke, included him in every activity, and treated him like he belonged there the entire time. Maybe that will happen for me. Maybe my family will sit around on a lazy Sunday playing board games. We could go on camping trips where my dad can teach me how to fish. It'll be perfect. My dream fades when the door opens. A man with hair like a Ken doll walks toward me. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he says with a wink. Ms. Preen's bright red lips widen into a grin, exposing her veneers. I try to copy her, but when I smile, I feel like I'm just showing the doctor that my teeth are straight. It's hard to get excited when I know nothing about the family willing to foster me. He reaches for the clipboard and pulls a tiny round stool out from under the desk. "I was just reviewing your file," he says as he sits down. His eyes shuttle from me to Ms. Preen and then back to my chart. "I noticed you're taking medication ..." "Just one, sir." "For her heart condition," Ms. Preen says. "She takes Propannalean once a day." "Ah yes, I remember the note now." The doctor scribbles something on the form. "How long has she been taking that?" "We discovered the condition when we took her in." "I understand." He gives her a sharp nod and turns to me. "Have you had any major injuries?" "No." "Any diseases?" "Not that I know of." He looks at Ms. Preen and she shakes her head. "We've cared for her since she was six. She was transferred to the Center for Excellence when she turned twelve." "How many hours a day does she train?" "Eight." Ms. Preen leans forward. "Even though she missed six years with us, I can assure you, Dr. Morgan, her physical condition is excellent." She pauses. "And since she's sixteen and her body has — how should I put it — matured, you can do all the tests, correct?" I cringe as the doctor gives a knowing smile and jots down some notes on the paper. He should just use a marker and write it on my forehead: Tabitha is a woman now. Apparently, that means I qualify for the full range of tests. Lucky me. When he's done, he puts the clipboard down and his eyes fix on mine. "I'm sure Ms. Preen has explained to you that we'll be drawing blood and running a series of tests to ensure you're in optimal health." "She has." "Then let's get to work."

Jessica Kapp always thought her penmanship would improve with age. She even wished for it on her eleventh birthday. But after having a hard time deciphering her own writing, she realized she’d never be the girl who stayed in the lines or dotted her I’s with hearts.To improve her legibility and speed, she hijacked her grandma’s typewriter—a really cool one with white correction tape—and started creating fictional worlds. That same grandma took Jessica to her first writers’ group meeting where she shared a story about fairies. The writing sucked, but with time, Jessica’s craft began to improve. Sadly, her penmanship has not. Jessica enjoys writing Young Adult Contemporary and Speculative Fiction. Story ideas often strike at inopportune times, and she’s been known to text herself reminders from under the covers. She lives on a small farm in Washington with far too many goats and an occasional cow. To learn more about Jessica Kapp and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter.