Quote
"As Santana’s layers were revealed, with the gentle and patient help of Brittany, it was shown that it was Santana’s own insecurities and difficulties in accepting her sexuality that made her treat Brittany that way. It was Brittany who made her see she could accept her truth, own who she was, and let her walls down. In turn, Santana made Brittany feel like both the beauty and brains she is. All of her life Brittany was told that she was dumb, but with Santana by her side, she always knew she had a brain as big as her heart. The two complimented each other in ways that went beyond normal boundaries and fans knew that their love, no matter what, was inevitable. And as Brittany has said, “you can’t recreate what we have.”"

— Huffington Post, October 20, 2014 "On Bended Knee" (via leigh-kelly)

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brittanaluv said: Do you by chance know the person who ran the brittanaweek blog, trying to see if they'd do a final week for the fandom

I don’t! Does anybody who’s listening? I’d participate (if any fic were to bubble up).

Photoset

blackourstory:

DO YOU KNOW ABOUT BLACK TULSA? IF NOT… WHY NOT?

This horrific incident has been well documented, everywhere: from YouTube videos of survivor interviews to PBS Lesson Plans for school teachers. Please do your Google diligence:

  • From May 30 to June 1, 1921, white citizens of Tulsa bombed burned and shot up the “Little Africa” section of Tulsa FOR 18 HOURS STRAIGHT
  • Why would they do that? That same old lame excuse, a Black man supposedly did something to a white woman. But the real reason was ECONOMIC JEALOUSY. Whites may have called it Little Africa derisively, but there is a reason that Black Tulsa is known as Black Wall Street
  • In addition to the 300 Blacks killed, and over 1,000 residential homes burned to the ground, also destroyed were:
  • The Mt. Zion Baptist Church and five other churches; the Gurley Hotel, Red Wing Hotel, and Midway Hotel; the Tulsa Star and Oklahoma Sun newspaper offices; Dunbar Elementary School; Osborne Monroe’s Roller-Skating Rink; the East End Feed Store; the Y.M.C.A. Cleaners; the Dreamland Theater; a drug store, barbershop, banquet hall, several grocery stores, dentists, lawyers, doctors, and realtors offices; a U.S. Post Office Substation, as well the all-black Frissell Memorial Hospital. All told, marauding gangs of savage whites destroyed 40-square-blocks of Black economic and entrepreneurial prosperity!

64 years after the first bombing of an American city was committed against the Black residents of Tulsa… the second bombing of an American city took place in Philadelphia when the city bombed the black members of the MOVE organization. (see the blackourstory archive for details). 

Isn’t it a shame that 76 after the bombing of Tulsa, when Timothy McVeigh blew up the Murrah Federal Office Building in Oklahoma City, most historically illiterate Americans - including American “journalists” - responded as if it were the first time such a horror had been visited on Oklahoma. If only we knew.

While there are many lessons to be drawn from this, a few questions that stick out to me are these:

  • If the answer to Black second-class treatment from whites in America is supposedly to become the ultimate American capitalists…the ‘model minorities’… how do you explain Tulsa 1921?
  • For those Black folk who think that the sole answer to Black people’s problems is simply more Blacks becoming business owners and more Blacks spending money with other Blacks… how did that work out for our people in Tulsa in ‘21?
  • Considering not only Tulsa, but Rosewood, Florida, and many other thriving all-Black towns that you may know of that all met the same fate at the hands of murderous, envious, lazy crackers… WHEN ARE WE GOING TO ACKNOWLEDGE AND TAKE SERIOUSLY THE IDEA THAT BLACK WEALTH (ESPECIALLY ALL-BLACK WEALTH) WILL NEED TO BE PROTECTED WITH PHYSICAL FORCE?

There is a reason that Marcus Garvey AND Elijah Muhammad had armies of trained Black men as a huge part of their organizations. Many of us Black folk took those great men as jokes, yet NO BLACK LEADERS SINCE THOSE TWO have reached the same heights of economic and ideological success and unity of Black people. 

Not only do we need to LEARN THIS HISTORY, we need to start taking these events men and movements MORE SERIOUSLY, and doing some CRITICAL HISTORICAL ANALYSIS if we are ever to stop being on the bottom rung of every metric in American life. Not just some casual or accidental reading of history; some CRITICAL. HISTORICAL. ANALYSIS.

TULSA 1921 was real. PHILLY 1985 was real. Will it happen again?

(via ijustkeepitmovin)

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130312

mad-cow-mama:

this same child who
an hour ago
told me I suck
(and I do)
is now
gripping me as if his life depended upon it
(and it does)

(via thenextmcm)

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poliscrutiny101:

SHARE to help turn this around. Frankly, I’m embarrassed for my generation. Whether it’s apathy, conspiracy theories, or just laziness, we need this to change.Tell any professor of government that your vote doesn’t matter and they’ll laugh.Don’t like the candidates? Fine, just write one in. If everyone did that the next election would look wildly different because our generation would matter to those who wish to run our government. http://www.npr.org/blogs/itsallpolitics/2014/10/08/354187589/millennial-voters-are-paying-attention-so-why-don-t-more-actually-vote#GoVote
 

poliscrutiny101:

SHARE to help turn this around. Frankly, I’m embarrassed for my generation. Whether it’s apathy, conspiracy theories, or just laziness, we need this to change.

Tell any professor of government that your vote doesn’t matter and they’ll laugh.

Don’t like the candidates? Fine, just write one in. If everyone did that the next election would look wildly different because our generation would matter to those who wish to run our government. 

http://www.npr.org/blogs/itsallpolitics/2014/10/08/354187589/millennial-voters-are-paying-attention-so-why-don-t-more-actually-vote

#GoVote

 

(via thatcuriouskat)

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leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

"but did she have to do it in front of the whole glee club?"
"remember when she called glee club the best part of her day? you guys are her family too and i think it was so brave of her."

"It just seems really crass of her, Brittany. She knows I’m still struggling with my break-up with Blaine, and this is what she does, she kicks people when they’re down, remember-“
"No, I’m going to stop you right there Kurt Hummel, that’s actually not who she is at all. That’s what you’ve all made her out to be. Not who she really is, and you know it. Think about it, really, just for a minute. Who was the first one who tried to get you back in this school when Dave was bullying you?”
"Her, but-" Brittany shakes her head and holds up a hand.
"Who went after Sebastian when he almost blinded Blaine Warbler?"
"Her."
"Who was the one who tried to protect Rachel when she was with that my sized Ken Doll?"
"Her." Kurt slumps his shoulders dejectedly.
"Yeah. Exactly. She’s the best kind of person, Kurt. She cares so much about you. Do you know that she cried, because of the way you acted? Not only because you turned one of the most important moments of our life into something negative, but because she feels bad that you were hurt. It wasn’t supposed to be about you. It was supposed to be about me, and her, our love.” The sparkling tears in Brittany’s eyes are evident, and she rubs her thumb over the inside of the band on her left ring finger.

Kurt doesn’t speak for a few long moments.
"Look, I know things have been hard for you with Blaine and Karofsky, but sometimes things happen in relationships.  Things you don’t expect and things that at the time seem like the worst possible outcome.  But you can’t give up and you can’t stand still."  Her eyes flick down at the ring again and back up.  "Kurt.”
He looks up at her finally, tears in his eyes.
"Don’t give up.  I never did."

"It’s hard. Almost impossible hard." His voice is hardly above a whisper. "Was it this hard for you too? Where you felt like you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even think straight anymore?"
"I’m not sure if you were ever thinking straight.” Brittany jokes a little, and she sees the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “But yeah, it was. The breakup hurt, but when I got a text from her that told me she’d started seeing Dani, it was like someone hit me in the chest with a baseball bat. I cried for like four days.”
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. It didn’t matter that I’d dated someone first. She’s my person, you know? My one true love, and even though I had faith that we’d find our way to each other again, it didn’t mean that I wanted to think about her with someone else. And not even the sexy stuff, just holding her hand, kissing her forehead, making her breakfast, sending her dumb texts. That hurt most. I know people don’t always give me credit, but I’m really good at understanding, and I’ve been there, so…"

"But Karofsky?  Really?  He terrorized me in high school, how could he…”
"We both know people change," she interrupts, glancing at the ring again and thinking back to Santana sophomore year.  How she snapped at Rachel after Landslide.  How she looked that day in front of the lockers.  He’s just a stupid boy.  “Karofsky was scared too back then, remember? Just have faith, I have a feeling it’s going to work out and Santana says I’ve got ESPN about these sort of things.  He’ll catch up, you know?”
Kurt nods and sniffles loudly, swiping at his nose.  ”I’m sorry I ruined it earlier.  You’re right, today was about you two and I should have seen that.”  He reaches out to squeeze her hand with a watery smile.
"You didn’t ruin it, I promise.  Nothing could have possibly ruined it.  Ever."  She can’t help the grin that splits from ear-to-ear.  Her fiance.
"I’m really happy for you, Brittany.  For both of you."
"Thanks, Kurt.  And I think you owe my fiance an apology."

"I know. I am proud of her, you know. I lived with her for months, and never once saw her as honest and open as she was during that speech. You bring out the best in her."
"No." Brittany shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips as she thinks of unicorns, and the MIT encouragement, and the nights on their tour where she’d come into bed bone tired, and Santana would remind her of what an amazing dancer she was, of all the great she’d accomplish. "We bring out the best in each other."
"Yeah, I guess that’s true. So where is she now? And do you think you could come with me? She won’t murder me in front of you."
"She’s at the Lima Bean. I was giving her some time to herself, to get her head together and stuff. We’re talking about maybe going to see her abuela before we go back home.” Brittany’s voice is quiet, serious, and Kurt realizes that she’s trusting him enough to share something so personal, so important.

As soon as they step foot into the Lima Bean, Brittany finds Santana on instinct.  She’s alone at a table by the far window, nursing a mug of steaming coffee looking like she’s not quite all there.
"Hey, space cadet," Brittany greets, kissing her on the cheek.
"Hey, baby."  Her expression softens immediately at the sight of Brittany but narrows her eyes when she notices Kurt.  "And if it isn’t Mr. Ungrateful himself.  Didn’t you already do enough damage today, Hummel?  Swing away."
"I owe you an apology, Santana."  That gets her attention.  "I was wrong to behave the way I did in that choir room.  I was hurt and lashed out and should have realized that this was your moment.  Yours and Brittany’s and I tried to take that from you.  I’m hurting, but that’s no excuse.  I just wanted you to know that I’m truly sorry."  Santana’s scowl turns progressively to a soft smile.  "And also, I’m really proud of you, Santana."
With that, her eyes get misty and Brittany reaches to squeeze her hand from across the table.  Because I voted for you.  I believe in you, Santana.
"I love you guys," Kurt whispers, laying his hand over both of theirs.
"We love you too, Lady Hummel," Santana begrudges, rolling her eyes and leaning over to press a kiss to Brittany’s lips.

"On that note, I’m going to go." Kurt stands up, swallowing the lump in his throat. 
"You can stay, if you want." Santana offers, though she’s still sort of staring into her coffee cup, eyes glazed over.
"No, it’s alright, I’ve got some thinking to do, I think. Thanks again, Britt. And congratulations. Give me a little time, and I’m happy to offer my wedding expertise."
"Will go, Captain Unicorn. Go find some of that magic." Brittany winks, and with a tip of his imaginary hat, Kurt is off, and Britt refocuses her energy on her fiancee. "Hey."
"Hi." Santana’s voice cracks a little, and Brittany feels a strong urge to cradle her in her arms and kiss her all over. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is such a happy day, and I kind of wish I didn’t bring it up until tomorrow, because now I’m getting weepy. And you said yes, you said yes, Britt. I’m so, so happy and I don’t want to cry, and I don’t want to ruin our big day."
"Hey, hey, sweetheart." Brittany soothes, kissing Santana’s lips again, and running her fingers through dark locks. "It’s okay. We have all the days of our life together to be happy, and we’re going back to New York the day after tomorrow. I want all of your dreams to come true, San, and I know this is one of them. It’s not ruining our day at all."

"I just want her to see," Santana breathes, swallowing down her tears.  "See how over-the-moon happy I am to one day soon call you my wife.  I want her to be proud of me, too."
"I want that more than anything," Brittany urges, pressing their foreheads together.  "You ready to go?  Or do we need to stop for motivational milkshakes on the way?"
"Ready as I’ll ever be." And with that, Santana stands, offering up a hand and pulling Brittany to her feet.  Brittany laces their fingers together as they make their way out to the car.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany watches the way Santana fidgets in the passenger seat, and she wishes there was something she could do to help calm her down. Briefly, she considers pulling over, but Brittany knows the best thing to do is just pull the bandaid off, and instead settles for bringing Santana’s wrist to her lips, and kissing there to calm her hammering pulse.
"I love you no matter what." Santana whispers, staring out the window at the big imposing house.
"Of course you do, silly." Brittany tries to keep it light, waggling her left hand. "And I’m here for you no matter what."
"It’s just, if she says something, or she-"
"Hey, honey, I can handle her. It’s you I’m worried about."
"She rejected me once. It can’t be worse the second time, right?"
"Let’s not even think like that. Let’s just think that she’s going to come around, and then afterwards, I’m going to buy my fiancee all the breadsticks she can eat, and then give her sweet lady kisses until she can pass out."
"Well that’s a reward." Santana laughs a little, and Brittany feels like she’s accomplished her goal. "Okay, let’s do it."
Fingers laced together (and maybe Brittany’s hand half broken with how tight Santana is squeezing, but she doesn’t mind) they make their way to the door, and sucking in a deep breath, Santana rings the bell.
"Yes. How can I help you?" Alma Lopez opens, trying to hide the elation in her eyes at seeing her granddaughter again, even if she IS holding hands with Brittany. She looks older, Santana thinks, it’s been three years since she’s seen her, after all, and smaller, and maybe, maybe a little bit softer-though that could be wishful thinking.
"Abuela. Hi."

“Santana, what are you doing here?”  She takes in Santana from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, a sad smile forming before turning to Brittany and nodding just slightly.
“Hi, Abuela,” Brittany greets softly.
“Can we come in?” Santana sounds so small she feels like a kid again, running to Abuela about a skinned knee, not her still broken heart.  Three years can feel like a lifetime.
“I’m not sure if-” Abuela hesitates, looking distantly past them out to the street.
“Please.”  When Santana’s voice cracks, something in in the air seems to change.  I don’t want to fight anymore.  I’m just too tired.
“Okay.”  Abuela sighs but motions them into the house and Brittany squeezes her hand quickly.
Upon crossing the threshold, Santana actually loses her breath.  Abuela’s house looks entirely the same as it has for nineteen years and the tears come quickly, dripping one after the other silently down her cheeks.  The mantle is still adorned with year after year of Santana’s grade school pictures, including the last photograph Santana ever took with Abuelo before he passed.  Santana blinks at the picture of her in that red cap and gown, because Abuela refused to come to her high school graduation.
When she turns back to her grandmother, she bites her lip to keep from sobbing.  It’s one thing to be a thousand miles away in New York and an entirely different one to be here in this house and face-to-face with the one person besides Brittany she’s always just wanted to love her.  The grandfather clock ticks loudly from the corner of the room.  
“Can I hug you?”  It comes out strangled and desperate, but Santana doesn’t care.
She starts crying in earnest when Abuela opens up her arms.
I have to just be me.

"I’ve missed you, nieta.” The words are spoken so low, with so much caution, that it seems as if they hardly exist at all.
“Te extraño también.”
Brittany holds her breath, watching the exchange, watching the way Santana trembles in the arms she fears might let her go as quickly as they embraced her, and she finds herself releasing a silent plea to the universe. Please. Please, don’t make her fight another war. Please. Let her finally see that she’s only lost the person she knew when she let her go. She wrings her hands behind her back, knowing the old woman has a hawk eye, knowing that if that diamond on her left hand is visible, Santana won’t be able to tell her grandmother herself.
"I have prayed." Alma speaks, a little louder this time, and Santana stiffens in her arms, unsure of whether she should pull away, or keep clinging, to hold on to every last second. "At first I prayed for strength. Strength to stay home on Christmas day, strength keep myself from seeing my granddaughter graduate high school, strength to keep from picking up the phone. But then slowly, I began to pray for guidance, to know whether I’d done what God would want of me."
“Abuelita-“
"Please. I know I have no right to ask anything of you anymore, Santanita, but if you would give me a moment to speak, it would be appreciated."
"Okay." Santana’s voice is still so small that it makes Brittany’s heart twist in her chest, and her stomach feel a little sick, wishing she could take away all that hesitation and fear.
"I have decided that it would be hypocritical of me to shun love, in favor of hate, or even indifference. This is all very new to me, this…way you feel about girls, but if you have me back, I promise you I will try."

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

leigh-kelly:

jennamacaroni:

"but did she have to do it in front of the whole glee club?"

"remember when she called glee club the best part of her day? you guys are her family too and i think it was so brave of her."

"It just seems really crass of her, Brittany. She knows I’m still struggling with my break-up with Blaine, and this is what she does, she kicks people when they’re down, remember-“

"No, I’m going to stop you right there Kurt Hummel, that’s actually not who she is at all. That’s what you’ve all made her out to be. Not who she really is, and you know it. Think about it, really, just for a minute. Who was the first one who tried to get you back in this school when Dave was bullying you?”

"Her, but-" Brittany shakes her head and holds up a hand.

"Who went after Sebastian when he almost blinded Blaine Warbler?"

"Her."

"Who was the one who tried to protect Rachel when she was with that my sized Ken Doll?"

"Her." Kurt slumps his shoulders dejectedly.

"Yeah. Exactly. She’s the best kind of person, Kurt. She cares so much about you. Do you know that she cried, because of the way you acted? Not only because you turned one of the most important moments of our life into something negative, but because she feels bad that you were hurt. It wasn’t supposed to be about you. It was supposed to be about me, and her, our love.” The sparkling tears in Brittany’s eyes are evident, and she rubs her thumb over the inside of the band on her left ring finger.

Kurt doesn’t speak for a few long moments.

"Look, I know things have been hard for you with Blaine and Karofsky, but sometimes things happen in relationships.  Things you don’t expect and things that at the time seem like the worst possible outcome.  But you can’t give up and you can’t stand still."  Her eyes flick down at the ring again and back up.  "Kurt.”

He looks up at her finally, tears in his eyes.

"Don’t give up.  I never did."

"It’s hard. Almost impossible hard." His voice is hardly above a whisper. "Was it this hard for you too? Where you felt like you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even think straight anymore?"

"I’m not sure if you were ever thinking straight.” Brittany jokes a little, and she sees the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “But yeah, it was. The breakup hurt, but when I got a text from her that told me she’d started seeing Dani, it was like someone hit me in the chest with a baseball bat. I cried for like four days.”

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. It didn’t matter that I’d dated someone first. She’s my person, you know? My one true love, and even though I had faith that we’d find our way to each other again, it didn’t mean that I wanted to think about her with someone else. And not even the sexy stuff, just holding her hand, kissing her forehead, making her breakfast, sending her dumb texts. That hurt most. I know people don’t always give me credit, but I’m really good at understanding, and I’ve been there, so…"

"But Karofsky?  Really?  He terrorized me in high school, how could he…”

"We both know people change," she interrupts, glancing at the ring again and thinking back to Santana sophomore year.  How she snapped at Rachel after Landslide.  How she looked that day in front of the lockers.  He’s just a stupid boy.  “Karofsky was scared too back then, remember? Just have faith, I have a feeling it’s going to work out and Santana says I’ve got ESPN about these sort of things.  He’ll catch up, you know?”

Kurt nods and sniffles loudly, swiping at his nose.  ”I’m sorry I ruined it earlier.  You’re right, today was about you two and I should have seen that.”  He reaches out to squeeze her hand with a watery smile.

"You didn’t ruin it, I promise.  Nothing could have possibly ruined it.  Ever."  She can’t help the grin that splits from ear-to-ear.  Her fiance.

"I’m really happy for you, Brittany.  For both of you."

"Thanks, Kurt.  And I think you owe my fiance an apology."

"I know. I am proud of her, you know. I lived with her for months, and never once saw her as honest and open as she was during that speech. You bring out the best in her."

"No." Brittany shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips as she thinks of unicorns, and the MIT encouragement, and the nights on their tour where she’d come into bed bone tired, and Santana would remind her of what an amazing dancer she was, of all the great she’d accomplish. "We bring out the best in each other."

"Yeah, I guess that’s true. So where is she now? And do you think you could come with me? She won’t murder me in front of you."

"She’s at the Lima Bean. I was giving her some time to herself, to get her head together and stuff. We’re talking about maybe going to see her abuela before we go back home.” Brittany’s voice is quiet, serious, and Kurt realizes that she’s trusting him enough to share something so personal, so important.

As soon as they step foot into the Lima Bean, Brittany finds Santana on instinct.  She’s alone at a table by the far window, nursing a mug of steaming coffee looking like she’s not quite all there.

"Hey, space cadet," Brittany greets, kissing her on the cheek.

"Hey, baby."  Her expression softens immediately at the sight of Brittany but narrows her eyes when she notices Kurt.  "And if it isn’t Mr. Ungrateful himself.  Didn’t you already do enough damage today, Hummel?  Swing away."

"I owe you an apology, Santana."  That gets her attention.  "I was wrong to behave the way I did in that choir room.  I was hurt and lashed out and should have realized that this was your moment.  Yours and Brittany’s and I tried to take that from you.  I’m hurting, but that’s no excuse.  I just wanted you to know that I’m truly sorry."  Santana’s scowl turns progressively to a soft smile.  "And also, I’m really proud of you, Santana."

With that, her eyes get misty and Brittany reaches to squeeze her hand from across the table.  Because I voted for you.  I believe in you, Santana.

"I love you guys," Kurt whispers, laying his hand over both of theirs.

"We love you too, Lady Hummel," Santana begrudges, rolling her eyes and leaning over to press a kiss to Brittany’s lips.

"On that note, I’m going to go." Kurt stands up, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

"You can stay, if you want." Santana offers, though she’s still sort of staring into her coffee cup, eyes glazed over.

"No, it’s alright, I’ve got some thinking to do, I think. Thanks again, Britt. And congratulations. Give me a little time, and I’m happy to offer my wedding expertise."

"Will go, Captain Unicorn. Go find some of that magic." Brittany winks, and with a tip of his imaginary hat, Kurt is off, and Britt refocuses her energy on her fiancee. "Hey."

"Hi." Santana’s voice cracks a little, and Brittany feels a strong urge to cradle her in her arms and kiss her all over. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is such a happy day, and I kind of wish I didn’t bring it up until tomorrow, because now I’m getting weepy. And you said yes, you said yes, Britt. I’m so, so happy and I don’t want to cry, and I don’t want to ruin our big day."

"Hey, hey, sweetheart." Brittany soothes, kissing Santana’s lips again, and running her fingers through dark locks. "It’s okay. We have all the days of our life together to be happy, and we’re going back to New York the day after tomorrow. I want all of your dreams to come true, San, and I know this is one of them. It’s not ruining our day at all."

"I just want her to see," Santana breathes, swallowing down her tears.  "See how over-the-moon happy I am to one day soon call you my wife.  I want her to be proud of me, too."

"I want that more than anything," Brittany urges, pressing their foreheads together.  "You ready to go?  Or do we need to stop for motivational milkshakes on the way?"

"Ready as I’ll ever be." And with that, Santana stands, offering up a hand and pulling Brittany to her feet.  Brittany laces their fingers together as they make their way out to the car.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany watches the way Santana fidgets in the passenger seat, and she wishes there was something she could do to help calm her down. Briefly, she considers pulling over, but Brittany knows the best thing to do is just pull the bandaid off, and instead settles for bringing Santana’s wrist to her lips, and kissing there to calm her hammering pulse.

"I love you no matter what." Santana whispers, staring out the window at the big imposing house.

"Of course you do, silly." Brittany tries to keep it light, waggling her left hand. "And I’m here for you no matter what."

"It’s just, if she says something, or she-"

"Hey, honey, I can handle her. It’s you I’m worried about."

"She rejected me once. It can’t be worse the second time, right?"

"Let’s not even think like that. Let’s just think that she’s going to come around, and then afterwards, I’m going to buy my fiancee all the breadsticks she can eat, and then give her sweet lady kisses until she can pass out."

"Well that’s a reward." Santana laughs a little, and Brittany feels like she’s accomplished her goal. "Okay, let’s do it."

Fingers laced together (and maybe Brittany’s hand half broken with how tight Santana is squeezing, but she doesn’t mind) they make their way to the door, and sucking in a deep breath, Santana rings the bell.

"Yes. How can I help you?" Alma Lopez opens, trying to hide the elation in her eyes at seeing her granddaughter again, even if she IS holding hands with Brittany. She looks older, Santana thinks, it’s been three years since she’s seen her, after all, and smaller, and maybe, maybe a little bit softer-though that could be wishful thinking.

"Abuela. Hi."

“Santana, what are you doing here?”  She takes in Santana from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, a sad smile forming before turning to Brittany and nodding just slightly.

“Hi, Abuela,” Brittany greets softly.

“Can we come in?” Santana sounds so small she feels like a kid again, running to Abuela about a skinned knee, not her still broken heart.  Three years can feel like a lifetime.

“I’m not sure if-” Abuela hesitates, looking distantly past them out to the street.

Please.”  When Santana’s voice cracks, something in in the air seems to change.  I don’t want to fight anymore.  I’m just too tired.

“Okay.”  Abuela sighs but motions them into the house and Brittany squeezes her hand quickly.

Upon crossing the threshold, Santana actually loses her breath.  Abuela’s house looks entirely the same as it has for nineteen years and the tears come quickly, dripping one after the other silently down her cheeks.  The mantle is still adorned with year after year of Santana’s grade school pictures, including the last photograph Santana ever took with Abuelo before he passed.  Santana blinks at the picture of her in that red cap and gown, because Abuela refused to come to her high school graduation.

When she turns back to her grandmother, she bites her lip to keep from sobbing.  It’s one thing to be a thousand miles away in New York and an entirely different one to be here in this house and face-to-face with the one person besides Brittany she’s always just wanted to love her.  The grandfather clock ticks loudly from the corner of the room.  

“Can I hug you?”  It comes out strangled and desperate, but Santana doesn’t care.

She starts crying in earnest when Abuela opens up her arms.

I have to just be me.

"I’ve missed you, nieta.” The words are spoken so low, with so much caution, that it seems as if they hardly exist at all.

Te extraño también.”

Brittany holds her breath, watching the exchange, watching the way Santana trembles in the arms she fears might let her go as quickly as they embraced her, and she finds herself releasing a silent plea to the universe. Please. Please, don’t make her fight another war. Please. Let her finally see that she’s only lost the person she knew when she let her go. She wrings her hands behind her back, knowing the old woman has a hawk eye, knowing that if that diamond on her left hand is visible, Santana won’t be able to tell her grandmother herself.

"I have prayed." Alma speaks, a little louder this time, and Santana stiffens in her arms, unsure of whether she should pull away, or keep clinging, to hold on to every last second. "At first I prayed for strength. Strength to stay home on Christmas day, strength keep myself from seeing my granddaughter graduate high school, strength to keep from picking up the phone. But then slowly, I began to pray for guidance, to know whether I’d done what God would want of me."

Abuelita-“

"Please. I know I have no right to ask anything of you anymore, Santanita, but if you would give me a moment to speak, it would be appreciated."

"Okay." Santana’s voice is still so small that it makes Brittany’s heart twist in her chest, and her stomach feel a little sick, wishing she could take away all that hesitation and fear.

"I have decided that it would be hypocritical of me to shun love, in favor of hate, or even indifference. This is all very new to me, this…way you feel about girls, but if you have me back, I promise you I will try."

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I don’t care what kind of blog I have I will blog this no matter what.

"Craving sensation: feeling unreal" was such a huge part of the beginning of my relapse. I was convinced that people in front of me didn’t even exist and I kept touching things and trying to feel sensation. I’m reblogging because I know that that was so horrifying for me and I never want anyone else to go through it. 

In case someone needs to see this

Just in case this can help someone. Some suggestions also seem harmful (eating a hot pepper really hurts!!!) but steps to feeling better and not self harming is most important. Sending you love and light

STOP SCROLLING! Please reblog this vitally important information because at least one of your followers is self-harming. Thank you!

I need this

I’ve used some of these and they really do help! Reblogging forever simply because this could help save someone

(Source: mentalhealthnostigma, via farleeto)

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You made your bed..

..and it looks pretty comfy actually, but it turns out those sheets you thought were flannel are actually made of fiberglass.

Quote
"Never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option."

Maya Angelou (via larmoyante)

I guess I need to learn this lesson a few times before it sticks.

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(via lazarusgirl)

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"but did she have to do it in front of the whole glee club?"
"remember when she called glee club the best part of her day? you guys are her family too and i think it was so brave of her."

"It just seems really crass of her, Brittany. She knows I’m still struggling with my break-up with Blaine, and this is what she does, she kicks people when they’re down, remember-“
"No, I’m going to stop you right there Kurt Hummel, that’s actually not who she is at all. That’s what you’ve all made her out to be. Not who she really is, and you know it. Think about it, really, just for a minute. Who was the first one who tried to get you back in this school when Dave was bullying you?”
"Her, but-" Brittany shakes her head and holds up a hand.
"Who went after Sebastian when he almost blinded Blaine Warbler?"
"Her."
"Who was the one who tried to protect Rachel when she was with that my sized Ken Doll?"
"Her." Kurt slumps his shoulders dejectedly.
"Yeah. Exactly. She’s the best kind of person, Kurt. She cares so much about you. Do you know that she cried, because of the way you acted? Not only because you turned one of the most important moments of our life into something negative, but because she feels bad that you were hurt. It wasn’t supposed to be about you. It was supposed to be about me, and her, our love.” The sparkling tears in Brittany’s eyes are evident, and she rubs her thumb over the inside of the band on her left ring finger.

Kurt doesn’t speak for a few long moments.
"Look, I know things have been hard for you with Blaine and Karofsky, but sometimes things happen in relationships.  Things you don’t expect and things that at the time seem like the worst possible outcome.  But you can’t give up and you can’t stand still."  Her eyes flick down at the ring again and back up.  "Kurt.”
He looks up at her finally, tears in his eyes.
"Don’t give up.  I never did."

"It’s hard. Almost impossible hard." His voice is hardly above a whisper. "Was it this hard for you too? Where you felt like you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even think straight anymore?"
"I’m not sure if you were ever thinking straight.” Brittany jokes a little, and she sees the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “But yeah, it was. The breakup hurt, but when I got a text from her that told me she’d started seeing Dani, it was like someone hit me in the chest with a baseball bat. I cried for like four days.”
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. It didn’t matter that I’d dated someone first. She’s my person, you know? My one true love, and even though I had faith that we’d find our way to each other again, it didn’t mean that I wanted to think about her with someone else. And not even the sexy stuff, just holding her hand, kissing her forehead, making her breakfast, sending her dumb texts. That hurt most. I know people don’t always give me credit, but I’m really good at understanding, and I’ve been there, so…"

"But Karofsky?  Really?  He terrorized me in high school, how could he…”
"We both know people change," she interrupts, glancing at the ring again and thinking back to Santana sophomore year.  How she snapped at Rachel after Landslide.  How she looked that day in front of the lockers.  He’s just a stupid boy.  “Karofsky was scared too back then, remember? Just have faith, I have a feeling it’s going to work out and Santana says I’ve got ESPN about these sort of things.  He’ll catch up, you know?”
Kurt nods and sniffles loudly, swiping at his nose.  ”I’m sorry I ruined it earlier.  You’re right, today was about you two and I should have seen that.”  He reaches out to squeeze her hand with a watery smile.
"You didn’t ruin it, I promise.  Nothing could have possibly ruined it.  Ever."  She can’t help the grin that splits from ear-to-ear.  Her fiance.
"I’m really happy for you, Brittany.  For both of you."
"Thanks, Kurt.  And I think you owe my fiance an apology."

"I know. I am proud of her, you know. I lived with her for months, and never once saw her as honest and open as she was during that speech. You bring out the best in her."
"No." Brittany shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips as she thinks of unicorns, and the MIT encouragement, and the nights on their tour where she’d come into bed bone tired, and Santana would remind her of what an amazing dancer she was, of all the great she’d accomplish. "We bring out the best in each other."
"Yeah, I guess that’s true. So where is she now? And do you think you could come with me? She won’t murder me in front of you."
"She’s at the Lima Bean. I was giving her some time to herself, to get her head together and stuff. We’re talking about maybe going to see her abuela before we go back home.” Brittany’s voice is quiet, serious, and Kurt realizes that she’s trusting him enough to share something so personal, so important.

As soon as they step foot into the Lima Bean, Brittany finds Santana on instinct.  She’s alone at a table by the far window, nursing a mug of steaming coffee looking like she’s not quite all there.
"Hey, space cadet," Brittany greets, kissing her on the cheek.
"Hey, baby."  Her expression softens immediately at the sight of Brittany but narrows her eyes when she notices Kurt.  "And if it isn’t Mr. Ungrateful himself.  Didn’t you already do enough damage today, Hummel?  Swing away."
"I owe you an apology, Santana."  That gets her attention.  "I was wrong to behave the way I did in that choir room.  I was hurt and lashed out and should have realized that this was your moment.  Yours and Brittany’s and I tried to take that from you.  I’m hurting, but that’s no excuse.  I just wanted you to know that I’m truly sorry."  Santana’s scowl turns progressively to a soft smile.  "And also, I’m really proud of you, Santana."
With that, her eyes get misty and Brittany reaches to squeeze her hand from across the table.  Because I voted for you.  I believe in you, Santana.
"I love you guys," Kurt whispers, laying his hand over both of theirs.
"We love you too, Lady Hummel," Santana begrudges, rolling her eyes and leaning over to press a kiss to Brittany’s lips.

"On that note, I’m going to go." Kurt stands up, swallowing the lump in his throat. 
"You can stay, if you want." Santana offers, though she’s still sort of staring into her coffee cup, eyes glazed over.
"No, it’s alright, I’ve got some thinking to do, I think. Thanks again, Britt. And congratulations. Give me a little time, and I’m happy to offer my wedding expertise."
"Will go, Captain Unicorn. Go find some of that magic." Brittany winks, and with a tip of his imaginary hat, Kurt is off, and Britt refocuses her energy on her fiancee. "Hey."
"Hi." Santana’s voice cracks a little, and Brittany feels a strong urge to cradle her in her arms and kiss her all over. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is such a happy day, and I kind of wish I didn’t bring it up until tomorrow, because now I’m getting weepy. And you said yes, you said yes, Britt. I’m so, so happy and I don’t want to cry, and I don’t want to ruin our big day."
"Hey, hey, sweetheart." Brittany soothes, kissing Santana’s lips again, and running her fingers through dark locks. "It’s okay. We have all the days of our life together to be happy, and we’re going back to New York the day after tomorrow. I want all of your dreams to come true, San, and I know this is one of them. It’s not ruining our day at all."

"I just want her to see," Santana breathes, swallowing down her tears.  "See how over-the-moon happy I am to one day soon call you my wife.  I want her to be proud of me, too."
"I want that more than anything," Brittany urges, pressing their foreheads together.  "You ready to go?  Or do we need to stop for motivational milkshakes on the way?"
"Ready as I’ll ever be." And with that, Santana stands, offering up a hand and pulling Brittany to her feet.  Brittany laces their fingers together as they make their way out to the car.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany watches the way Santana fidgets in the passenger seat, and she wishes there was something she could do to help calm her down. Briefly, she considers pulling over, but Brittany knows the best thing to do is just pull the bandaid off, and instead settles for bringing Santana’s wrist to her lips, and kissing there to calm her hammering pulse.
"I love you no matter what." Santana whispers, staring out the window at the big imposing house.
"Of course you do, silly." Brittany tries to keep it light, waggling her left hand. "And I’m here for you no matter what."
"It’s just, if she says something, or she-"
"Hey, honey, I can handle her. It’s you I’m worried about."
"She rejected me once. It can’t be worse the second time, right?"
"Let’s not even think like that. Let’s just think that she’s going to come around, and then afterwards, I’m going to buy my fiancee all the breadsticks she can eat, and then give her sweet lady kisses until she can pass out."
"Well that’s a reward." Santana laughs a little, and Brittany feels like she’s accomplished her goal. "Okay, let’s do it."
Fingers laced together (and maybe Brittany’s hand half broken with how tight Santana is squeezing, but she doesn’t mind) they make their way to the door, and sucking in a deep breath, Santana rings the bell.
"Yes. How can I help you?" Alma Lopez opens, trying to hide the elation in her eyes at seeing her granddaughter again, even if she IS holding hands with Brittany. She looks older, Santana thinks, it’s been three years since she’s seen her, after all, and smaller, and maybe, maybe a little bit softer-though that could be wishful thinking.
"Abuela. Hi."

“Santana, what are you doing here?”  She takes in Santana from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, a sad smile forming before turning to Brittany and nodding just slightly.
“Hi, Abuela,” Brittany greets softly.
“Can we come in?” Santana sounds so small she feels like a kid again, running to Abuela about a skinned knee, not her still broken heart.  Three years can feel like a lifetime.
“I’m not sure if-” Abuela hesitates, looking distantly past them out to the street.
“Please.”  When Santana’s voice cracks, something in in the air seems to change.  I don’t want to fight anymore.  I’m just too tired.
“Okay.”  Abuela sighs but motions them into the house and Brittany squeezes her hand quickly.
Upon crossing the threshold, Santana actually loses her breath.  Abuela’s house looks entirely the same as it has for nineteen years and the tears come quickly, dripping one after the other silently down her cheeks.  The mantle is still adorned with year after year of Santana’s grade school pictures, including the last photograph Santana ever took with Abuelo before he passed.  Santana blinks at the picture of her in that red cap and gown, because Abuela refused to come to her high school graduation.
When she turns back to her grandmother, she bites her lip to keep from sobbing.  It’s one thing to be a thousand miles away in New York and an entirely different one to be here in this house and face-to-face with the one person besides Brittany she’s always just wanted to love her.  The grandfather clock ticks loudly from the corner of the room.  
“Can I hug you?”  It comes out strangled and desperate, but Santana doesn’t care.
She starts crying in earnest when Abuela opens up her arms.
I have to just be me.

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"but did she have to do it in front of the whole glee club?"

"remember when she called glee club the best part of her day? you guys are her family too and i think it was so brave of her."

"It just seems really crass of her, Brittany. She knows I’m still struggling with my break-up with Blaine, and this is what she does, she kicks people when they’re down, remember-“

"No, I’m going to stop you right there Kurt Hummel, that’s actually not who she is at all. That’s what you’ve all made her out to be. Not who she really is, and you know it. Think about it, really, just for a minute. Who was the first one who tried to get you back in this school when Dave was bullying you?”

"Her, but-" Brittany shakes her head and holds up a hand.

"Who went after Sebastian when he almost blinded Blaine Warbler?"

"Her."

"Who was the one who tried to protect Rachel when she was with that my sized Ken Doll?"

"Her." Kurt slumps his shoulders dejectedly.

"Yeah. Exactly. She’s the best kind of person, Kurt. She cares so much about you. Do you know that she cried, because of the way you acted? Not only because you turned one of the most important moments of our life into something negative, but because she feels bad that you were hurt. It wasn’t supposed to be about you. It was supposed to be about me, and her, our love.” The sparkling tears in Brittany’s eyes are evident, and she rubs her thumb over the inside of the band on her left ring finger.

Kurt doesn’t speak for a few long moments.

"Look, I know things have been hard for you with Blaine and Karofsky, but sometimes things happen in relationships.  Things you don’t expect and things that at the time seem like the worst possible outcome.  But you can’t give up and you can’t stand still."  Her eyes flick down at the ring again and back up.  "Kurt.”

He looks up at her finally, tears in his eyes.

"Don’t give up.  I never did."

"It’s hard. Almost impossible hard." His voice is hardly above a whisper. "Was it this hard for you too? Where you felt like you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even think straight anymore?"

"I’m not sure if you were ever thinking straight.” Brittany jokes a little, and she sees the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “But yeah, it was. The breakup hurt, but when I got a text from her that told me she’d started seeing Dani, it was like someone hit me in the chest with a baseball bat. I cried for like four days.”

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. It didn’t matter that I’d dated someone first. She’s my person, you know? My one true love, and even though I had faith that we’d find our way to each other again, it didn’t mean that I wanted to think about her with someone else. And not even the sexy stuff, just holding her hand, kissing her forehead, making her breakfast, sending her dumb texts. That hurt most. I know people don’t always give me credit, but I’m really good at understanding, and I’ve been there, so…"

"But Karofsky?  Really?  He terrorized me in high school, how could he…”

"We both know people change," she interrupts, glancing at the ring again and thinking back to Santana sophomore year.  How she snapped at Rachel after Landslide.  How she looked that day in front of the lockers.  He’s just a stupid boy.  “Karofsky was scared too back then, remember? Just have faith, I have a feeling it’s going to work out and Santana says I’ve got ESPN about these sort of things.  He’ll catch up, you know?”

Kurt nods and sniffles loudly, swiping at his nose.  ”I’m sorry I ruined it earlier.  You’re right, today was about you two and I should have seen that.”  He reaches out to squeeze her hand with a watery smile.

"You didn’t ruin it, I promise.  Nothing could have possibly ruined it.  Ever."  She can’t help the grin that splits from ear-to-ear.  Her fiance.

"I’m really happy for you, Brittany.  For both of you."

"Thanks, Kurt.  And I think you owe my fiance an apology."

"I know. I am proud of her, you know. I lived with her for months, and never once saw her as honest and open as she was during that speech. You bring out the best in her."

"No." Brittany shakes her head, a soft smile on her lips as she thinks of unicorns, and the MIT encouragement, and the nights on their tour where she’d come into bed bone tired, and Santana would remind her of what an amazing dancer she was, of all the great she’d accomplish. "We bring out the best in each other."

"Yeah, I guess that’s true. So where is she now? And do you think you could come with me? She won’t murder me in front of you."

"She’s at the Lima Bean. I was giving her some time to herself, to get her head together and stuff. We’re talking about maybe going to see her abuela before we go back home.” Brittany’s voice is quiet, serious, and Kurt realizes that she’s trusting him enough to share something so personal, so important.

As soon as they step foot into the Lima Bean, Brittany finds Santana on instinct.  She’s alone at a table by the far window, nursing a mug of steaming coffee looking like she’s not quite all there.

"Hey, space cadet," Brittany greets, kissing her on the cheek.

"Hey, baby."  Her expression softens immediately at the sight of Brittany but narrows her eyes when she notices Kurt.  "And if it isn’t Mr. Ungrateful himself.  Didn’t you already do enough damage today, Hummel?  Swing away."

"I owe you an apology, Santana."  That gets her attention.  "I was wrong to behave the way I did in that choir room.  I was hurt and lashed out and should have realized that this was your moment.  Yours and Brittany’s and I tried to take that from you.  I’m hurting, but that’s no excuse.  I just wanted you to know that I’m truly sorry."  Santana’s scowl turns progressively to a soft smile.  "And also, I’m really proud of you, Santana."

With that, her eyes get misty and Brittany reaches to squeeze her hand from across the table.  Because I voted for you.  I believe in you, Santana.

"I love you guys," Kurt whispers, laying his hand over both of theirs.

"We love you too, Lady Hummel," Santana begrudges, rolling her eyes and leaning over to press a kiss to Brittany’s lips.

"On that note, I’m going to go." Kurt stands up, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

"You can stay, if you want." Santana offers, though she’s still sort of staring into her coffee cup, eyes glazed over.

"No, it’s alright, I’ve got some thinking to do, I think. Thanks again, Britt. And congratulations. Give me a little time, and I’m happy to offer my wedding expertise."

"Will go, Captain Unicorn. Go find some of that magic." Brittany winks, and with a tip of his imaginary hat, Kurt is off, and Britt refocuses her energy on her fiancee. "Hey."

"Hi." Santana’s voice cracks a little, and Brittany feels a strong urge to cradle her in her arms and kiss her all over. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is such a happy day, and I kind of wish I didn’t bring it up until tomorrow, because now I’m getting weepy. And you said yes, you said yes, Britt. I’m so, so happy and I don’t want to cry, and I don’t want to ruin our big day."

"Hey, hey, sweetheart." Brittany soothes, kissing Santana’s lips again, and running her fingers through dark locks. "It’s okay. We have all the days of our life together to be happy, and we’re going back to New York the day after tomorrow. I want all of your dreams to come true, San, and I know this is one of them. It’s not ruining our day at all."

"I just want her to see," Santana breathes, swallowing down her tears.  "See how over-the-moon happy I am to one day soon call you my wife.  I want her to be proud of me, too."

"I want that more than anything," Brittany urges, pressing their foreheads together.  "You ready to go?  Or do we need to stop for motivational milkshakes on the way?"

"Ready as I’ll ever be." And with that, Santana stands, offering up a hand and pulling Brittany to her feet.  Brittany laces their fingers together as they make their way out to the car.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany watches the way Santana fidgets in the passenger seat, and she wishes there was something she could do to help calm her down. Briefly, she considers pulling over, but Brittany knows the best thing to do is just pull the bandaid off, and instead settles for bringing Santana’s wrist to her lips, and kissing there to calm her hammering pulse.

"I love you no matter what." Santana whispers, staring out the window at the big imposing house.

"Of course you do, silly." Brittany tries to keep it light, waggling her left hand. "And I’m here for you no matter what."

"It’s just, if she says something, or she-"

"Hey, honey, I can handle her. It’s you I’m worried about."

"She rejected me once. It can’t be worse the second time, right?"

"Let’s not even think like that. Let’s just think that she’s going to come around, and then afterwards, I’m going to buy my fiancee all the breadsticks she can eat, and then give her sweet lady kisses until she can pass out."

"Well that’s a reward." Santana laughs a little, and Brittany feels like she’s accomplished her goal. "Okay, let’s do it."

Fingers laced together (and maybe Brittany’s hand half broken with how tight Santana is squeezing, but she doesn’t mind) they make their way to the door, and sucking in a deep breath, Santana rings the bell.

"Yes. How can I help you?" Alma Lopez opens, trying to hide the elation in her eyes at seeing her granddaughter again, even if she IS holding hands with Brittany. She looks older, Santana thinks, it’s been three years since she’s seen her, after all, and smaller, and maybe, maybe a little bit softer-though that could be wishful thinking.

"Abuela. Hi."

“Santana, what are you doing here?”  She takes in Santana from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, a sad smile forming before turning to Brittany and nodding just slightly.

“Hi, Abuela,” Brittany greets softly.

“Can we come in?” Santana sounds so small she feels like a kid again, running to Abuela about a skinned knee, not her still broken heart.  Three years can feel like a lifetime.

“I’m not sure if-” Abuela hesitates, looking distantly past them out to the street.

Please.”  When Santana’s voice cracks, something in in the air seems to change.  I don’t want to fight anymore.  I’m just too tired.

“Okay.”  Abuela sighs but motions them into the house and Brittany squeezes her hand quickly.

Upon crossing the threshold, Santana actually loses her breath.  Abuela’s house looks entirely the same as it has for nineteen years and the tears come quickly, dripping one after the other silently down her cheeks.  The mantle is still adorned with year after year of Santana’s grade school pictures, including the last photograph Santana ever took with Abuelo before he passed.  Santana blinks at the picture of her in that red cap and gown, because Abuela refused to come to her high school graduation.

When she turns back to her grandmother, she bites her lip to keep from sobbing.  It’s one thing to be a thousand miles away in New York and an entirely different one to be here in this house and face-to-face with the one person besides Brittany she’s always just wanted to love her.  The grandfather clock ticks loudly from the corner of the room.  

“Can I hug you?”  It comes out strangled and desperate, but Santana doesn’t care.

She starts crying in earnest when Abuela opens up her arms.

I have to just be me.

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Checklist for character development.
Created by myself, compiled from questions gleaned from several sources, and some of my own additions.
It should be noted, that not every character will check every one of these things off. It is not REQUIRED to have all this information, but this checklist is, rather, a guideline for helping you think of your character as an entire, three dimentional being with thoughts, feelings, possessions, contradictions and background.
A character is 20% revealed to the reader, 80% writer/author/Mun knowledge. What the Reader sees is just the tip of the iceburg, but without the other 80% the character can’t help but come off feeling shallow. There’s nothing beneath the surface -  KNOWING as much bout your character as possible, instrinsicly, in detail, intimately, can do nothing but help build believability and dimension to your character.
Use only the things on this list that you feel are important, but I would like to remind you that the reader learns a lot about a character NOT through exposition (that’s kind of a cheat, and always feels , to me, like a rather clunky way of conveying knowlege), but through their actions, quirks, thoughts, and even through the things they own and carry with them. What kind of food they eat and how they eat it. What they wear. What they carry in their wallets.  I encourage you, as writers, to consider these things when creating a character, and encourage you MORE to leave the exposition out and tell us about your character through these other means!
If nothing else, this will give you a LOT to work with when writing with your character. Maybe it’ll spur you to write about the character’s parents. Or the relationship between them and their family. Maybe you’ll find yourself inspired to write something about how they lost everything in a fire  - and the importance each remembered lost item held.
There is certainly no rule that says you HAVE to do it this way, but invariably, the most memorable characters are the ones that we as readers can relate with. It’s hard to relate with just words - but people - with beliefs and dreams and fears -  that’s something we can get behind.
I certainly hope you find this useful, and since so many have been inclined to reblog and like this, I shall endeavor to add more character creation and writing tips, lists and excercises up on this blog!

I think this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
- Pen

spookysafety:

fuckyeahcharacterdevelopment:

aetherial:

Checklist for character development.

Created by myself, compiled from questions gleaned from several sources, and some of my own additions.

It should be noted, that not every character will check every one of these things off. It is not REQUIRED to have all this information, but this checklist is, rather, a guideline for helping you think of your character as an entire, three dimentional being with thoughts, feelings, possessions, contradictions and background.

A character is 20% revealed to the reader, 80% writer/author/Mun knowledge. What the Reader sees is just the tip of the iceburg, but without the other 80% the character can’t help but come off feeling shallow. There’s nothing beneath the surface -  KNOWING as much bout your character as possible, instrinsicly, in detail, intimately, can do nothing but help build believability and dimension to your character.

Use only the things on this list that you feel are important, but I would like to remind you that the reader learns a lot about a character NOT through exposition (that’s kind of a cheat, and always feels , to me, like a rather clunky way of conveying knowlege), but through their actions, quirks, thoughts, and even through the things they own and carry with them. What kind of food they eat and how they eat it. What they wear. What they carry in their wallets.  I encourage you, as writers, to consider these things when creating a character, and encourage you MORE to leave the exposition out and tell us about your character through these other means!

If nothing else, this will give you a LOT to work with when writing with your character. Maybe it’ll spur you to write about the character’s parents. Or the relationship between them and their family. Maybe you’ll find yourself inspired to write something about how they lost everything in a fire  - and the importance each remembered lost item held.

There is certainly no rule that says you HAVE to do it this way, but invariably, the most memorable characters are the ones that we as readers can relate with. It’s hard to relate with just words - but people - with beliefs and dreams and fears -  that’s something we can get behind.

I certainly hope you find this useful, and since so many have been inclined to reblog and like this, I shall endeavor to add more character creation and writing tips, lists and excercises up on this blog!

I think this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

- Pen

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American Horror Story: Ferguson

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