HEAR ME ROAR.

[ It wasn’t like, the first thing Ari did with her modeling money or anything, but after tucking a few months’ worth of rent money away and making a serious dent in her merch bucket list, she realized there was one other person she really wanted to get a nice Christmas present for. And as luck would have it, she happened to know what Kitty Wilde would like, thanks to a serious case of the drunken babbles that happened after a party some time in November.

So Ari put her years of rare merch-finding skills to use and went to work on getting her hands on the doll Mr. and Mrs. Wilde never bought. And it took several weeks and some serious talks with some people who seriously needed to take a chill pill or twenty where dolls are involved, but she did it. Of course, when Christmas came she totally chickened out, but the important thing was, she found the doll and bought it. So what if it stayed in her closet? The intention is what counts, or whatever.

But now it’s Kitty’s birthday, and New Years’ Eve happened, and even if Ari still has no clue what’s going on, she thinks… well, that something is going on. So on January second, there’s a delivery for Kitty, and under the wrapping paper there’s a perfectly packaged doll, with her book, and a note with a line from that same book:]

She is a bright light in the dark days.

Happy 22nd.

Kitty acts tough. Like super human heart of steal from some lame comic book kind of tough, but anyone who actually knows her is probably aware, for the most part, that underneath the whole ice princess facade lies an actual heart. Not that she’d ever admit it. Or that she’s particularly ashamed of who she is. She likes her sense of humor, likes her snark, and her sharp edges. She just doesn’t always like how isolating that is. 

Like when nobody outside of your family (or your roomie) wishes you a happy birthday. Or remembers your birth. Or is actually happy at all you were born. 

Which is why she’s surprised when she receives a package. When she sees the name on the package, however, she realizes she really shouldn’t have been. 

She takes it back to her room, thankful to actually have it to herself for once, and makes quick work of unwrapping it. But when she sees what’s beneath the wrapping paper...

Her heart clenches. She doesn’t know what she’s feeling, she just knows she feels it a lot. It’s dumb, really. Some stupid childhood memory hardly ever thinks about. 

But Ari does. Ari always thinks the best of her. 

A: [ Ari can't move. Not a muscle. Kitty's hand is on her lips and she's looking at her a bit like she's lunch (dinner?) and Ari is like, totally okay with that. She'll be lunch. Whatever. Sure. She just has to focus on not doing anything stupid, like kissing Kitty's hand. But she doesn't have much time to focus on that before the hand is gone and Kitty's lips are right there.

On hers.

Like, kissing her.

So Ari still can't move. For like, three seconds that kinda feel like three hours. She just stays there frozen in shock because out of all the people she thought she may kiss tonight (read: nobody), she's being kissed by the one she was sure she'd only ever kiss in her dreams. She kisses her a lot in her dreams, actually. A lot. She doesn't freeze in her dreams. Which reminds her that this is actual real life, and Kitty is actually real-life kissing her. It's a New Year's Eve miracle.

There comes a moment where she sort of believes it's happening, and decides whatever has gotten into Kitty is probably not permanent. Like, maybe she's so drunk she can't remember who Ari actually is, or she's hit her head and has momentarily decided she's into geeks. Ari doesn't know. But she does know whatever is happening is never gonna happen again, probably, so she should make the most of it.

So she finally kisses her back. It's soft and a little hesitant, because how do you even kiss the girl you like without reminding her that you're the opposite of attractive? The struggle is real. And Ari's hand moves so her fingers can slide into soft (so soft) blond hair while she prays that Kitty is drunk enough to not really notice the way Ari's chest heaves with a dumb (so dumb) happy sigh. ]

K: [ There's a long moment -- a really painfully long moment -- where nothing happens. Like she's kissing Ari. And doing some of her best work if she does say so. And is just sort of sitting there. Completely still. In fact Kitty might think she's passed out again except that even in her state she's not that naive.

And then she's second guessing herself. It had all seemed like such a good idea when she was boozing up during the count down. But this is reality. And Ari still isn't kissing her back. And her heart is dropping into the pit of her stomach, because all these months she's been so busy trying to convinec herself that she can't possibly have feelings for her wheelie friend that it hasn't even occurred to her that maybe Ari isn't actually into her.

Is her ego really that big?

She has a plan. She's going to pull away. She'll laugh it off like the cosmic joke that it is, excuse herself, and then go back to her dorm where she's saved just enough vodka left to erase the memory of her own stupidity forever. And she's just about to enact this plan when Ari finally kisses her back.

She's breathing again. Time has returned to its regular forward moving progression. The Earth has continued orbiting the sun. Somewhere the clock has just struck midnight -- it's 2016 and Kitty's actually starting her year off doing something she won't regret.

Tonight’s the night. While not the Oscars, the Globes can be your first award season test run. How well do you check your ballot? How many nominated works have you seen? Do you Christmastree and hope for the best? Hone your skill tonight and maybe, just maybe, you’ll have a plentiful season of office award show pools. 

But no peeking off my ballot. I’m a champ, and my expertise comes at a high, high cost. If you would, however, like to watch the Globes to simply bask in my presence, well… you most likely know where we live. Cocktail attire only. No messy buns, sweats or UGGs permitted on a red carpet (viewing party). 

You had me at Globes St. James, but I’m all about any excuse to dress up tbh. Besides, if I’m going to be compiling a hot or not list for tomorrow’s show I might as well be wearing a nice dress. 

And why don’t you bring another ring while you’re at it? We can renew our vows.

Oh Honey Suckle, I like the way you think. Watermelon -- to match your eyes. 

Oh, Sweet Potato. Of course we can. Just let me know when and where to pucker-up.

How about tonight, in front of the stars? The Golden Globes are super hot. 

Are you asking me to be your date for Valentine’s Day?

It depends on who you ask, KitKat. I think that by your people’s standards, yes, I’m on the fast track to a fiery eternity.

No, I’m asking you to join me in my misery if we both happen to be dateless losers on VDay. 

No, it isn’t. It’s just some people who make it hard for others.

I don’t understand why people can’t just all get along…

I think the first step in remedying the world, Marley, might be admitting that both parties in whatever vague thing you’re alluding to have equal power. Yes, some of are predisposed to knock those around us down a peg or five, or have a bit of a control kink but that doesn’t make the ‘victim’ of our energy powerless. We all have choices. And choosing not to give them your power is just as powerful as slicing and dicing a human with your words. You, Marley Rose, are proof of that. Most other roommates would have crumbled under the pressure of rooming with my awesomeness. 

Look, I know your inner puppy disney princess wants to believe we can have a world where everyone actually likes each other, but it’s never going to happen. On some level we all want to be right, want everyone else to change their perception of the world to what we think -- sure we’re not all crazy uni-bombers out to seek revenge against abortion clinics or whatever, but it’s still there. And because it’s still there, some people -- try as they might -- will just never get along. And you forcing them to is kind of just as crappy as the weird tension they have going on. Acceptance, Marls. Sometimes acceptance is being okay with the fact some bitches are just never going to like you.