White Rabbit Red Rabbit

It’s hard to put the experience into words. I guess the most apt way to describe it is that it felt like Stana was standing in your living room in your own home, playing for and with you. It was a small theater, and she has such a presence that the moment she stepped on that stage, she filled the entire space with her personality. I was, quite simply, enraptured!

She was a little nervous, at first, but she found her stride really fast, and she had such fun!! You could feel her enjoyment of acting, and her energy palpable in the room. The play was very funny, and Stana gave all she had to bring the joy and jokes across to us, but it had real depth, an underlying storyline and scenes that really made you think - a “playful, enigmatic and haunting solo show” (New York Times review).

Without giving much away, it tackles concepts such as authoritarianism, constrictions of freedom of expression, and social conditioning to obey or to punish (this has all been written in reviews such as in the New York Times and thus are not spoilers.) The play perpetually contrasts at times goofy performances or witty humor with quiet, thought-provoking monologs, and in my opinion, Stana did a fantastic job playing these facets of the play. At one point she was so touched by the scene that she was crying (and then so was I.)

She was amazing, you guys! I mean, just incredible. Playful, sparkling, indomitable. It was very unique, very fun, very moving experience that will stay with me for a long time!

Favorite moments:

The producers opening intro stating that “for these two gay guys, meeting Stana was love at first sight!” - and can’t we all relate to that?!

Her bright laughter when she walked out on stage seeing all of us cheer her on.

Her joy with acting.

When she broke off script for a moment to check with us if we were getting it.

She had to repeat a certain section on a ‘deadline’ of 30 seconds and that was one of my very favorite sections of the performance.

When the words “police” and “murder” came up and she repeated it, for emphasis! (you can envision it. go ahead. ;))

Not so favorite - not being the right number, or close enough, to make it up to the stage with her! ;) I had read up on it before that there would be audience participation so I was primed and ready to jump from my seat!! Alas, it was not to be. :)

The above photo of Stana is one of those that perfectly encapsulates the performance for me. See that touch of mischief in her look? Yeah, like that. :)
(I apologize, I do not know the credits for this photo.)


Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him—
You know what? Forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.

this just in, adam adopts a sandy brown lil cat when he goes away to college. he names her triscuit and she’s tiny and very affectionate. she likes to curl up on his lap when he’s doing homework and enjoys playing with his hair to wake him up in the mornings

this is sent in by the lovely @kaladork

A Beautiful Almost

“I didn’t ask to be the soulmate of an arrogant, self-absorbed Mafia Don!”

“I didn’t ask for this either. I didn’t ask for such a stubborn, selfish soulmate! Can’t you see that everything I’m doing, I’m doing for you! For your safety!”

“My safety? Tsuna, you’re asking me to give up everything I’ve ever known. My friends, my family, my education, my future career. You’re demanding I sacrifice any and all freedom I’ve ever had and I’m the only one in this sham of a relationship who’s being asked to sacrifice!”

“I’m making plenty of sacrifice!”

“Name one!”

“I’m marrying a broke-ass two-bit waitress!”

She got quiet. She pulled back her anger and stowed it inside, suddenly realizing; she realized exactly what this relationship—what she—was to him. What she would always be to him. She would always be his inferior. Just the waitress who was lucky enough to be the soulmate of a Don “Ah. I see.”

“Good. Because I’m not arguing this with you anymore.” He shook his head, then looked away, toward his office. “I have paperwork to finish now. I’ll see you for dinner at seven.” He then left, shutting himself in his office with a bottle of whiskey and a bad mood.

She looked at the clock.


That gave her three and a half hours.

She walked the halls to Tsuna’s office.

“Tsuna, honey?” she asked through the locked door.

A quiet grunt drifted through the wood.

“I still have some things back at my old apartment. Important things. Personal things. I’m going to go get them.”

“Take someone with you,” Tsuna said slowly, obviously distracted.

“Okay, bye.”


Hurrying away, she got to work.

She grabbed her purse and stuffed in it a thick wad of cash—her savings from three years of tips—her grandmother’s necklace, and her bag of makeup. Nothing Tsuna had given her. She wouldn’t be accused of stealing.

She told the men guarding the garage that she was supposed to go to her apartment to gather her things. No, no. She didn’t need a guard. Tsuna wasn’t worried and she wouldn’t be gone for too awfully long.

She took her beat up junker car and rushed to her apartment.

Calling it an apartment was a bit… generous.

It was a refurbished shed, about the size of a larger room. It was old, falling apart, and had been hastily and poorly put together in the first place.

Immediately, she grabbed her wallet, her important papers, and her passport. Then she set it on fire in the small wood-burning stove that heated her apartment.

They were of no use to her now.

Fire glittered in the cold, hard blue eyes as she watched them burn.

After that, she sheared off a foot of her long hair. She took ten minutes to style it—a pixie cut to contrast the long locks she once had.

Then she grabbed the box of hair dye she had stashed in the back of her bathroom cabinet. She had been saving it for when she had time to dye her hair.

Light brown hair, similar in color to Tsuna’s, became deep dark red.

As it was setting, she gathered what she would need.

She grabbed her emergency preparedness backpack—thank you, paranoid father—and found a change of clothes. They were clothes she had never worn before. Clothes she would never wear. Not really her style.

A sea-green bandeau and a transparent, white, button-up top showed more skin than she was used to. She put on a pair of pants made of black leather and then donned a pair of black high-heeled ankle boots.

In her emergency backpack was a new passport, fake but virtually foolproof, a new ID, a new birth certificate, high school diploma, anything and everything to prove her new identity.

She did her makeup in ten minutes. Dark lipstick, heavy eyeliner, colorful eyeshadow, highlighting and lowlighting her face the change the facial features just enough to alter her face.

She looked at the clock.


She looked in the mirror.

A stranger looked back.

She had everything she needed.

She built a hot fire in the stove. Then, she ‘accidentally’ left the stove door open and a few papers too close to the flame.

As she left, the satisfying smell of burning carpet met her nose.


Tsuna blinked.

It was 10:00pm.

He hadn’t noticed how late it was.

His eyes were heavy, his stomach empty.

Where was his fiancé?

He stood up.

His hand brushed something.

A plate full of food.


He had missed their dinner.

She had probably waited for him and, when he didn’t show up, had the chef send him some food.

He smiled slightly.

How thoughtful.

A smidgen of guilt entered into his chest. He shouldn’t have yelled at her earlier. This really was such a big change for her and… and he really shouldn’t have made a dig at her for being a waitress.

Hadn’t he been no-good Tsuna once?

Feeling penitent and more than a bit flirtatious, he made his way to his bedroom. He opened the door, loosening his tie.

“Hey, darling,” he purred affectionately into the dark room.

She had probably gone to bed earlier, exhausted from their fight. Tsuna tossed away his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. “Hey!” he whined. Women loved it when he acted just a bit needy. “Are you ignoring me?”

He crawled onto the bed, over to the place where his soulmate lay.

The place his soulmate should lay.

The place his soul mate was not.

A spike of fear ran through his gut.

Something was wrong.

It may have been a hasty conclusion, but his intuition was screaming at his senses that something was very amiss.

Quick as a whip, his phone was out and he texted asking where she was.

He waited five minutes before rushing out of his room to storm the mansion.

No answer.

As he made his way to his Guardians’ suites, he tried calling.

“We’re sorry. The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”


An hour later he returned to his room. His face was pale and he felt a bit sick.

Her apartment was burned. Her car was found abandoned in a back alley. Her blood had been found in the back seat. Her phone was probably dropped down a drain somewhere.

Everything pointed to a kidnapping.

And… quite possible a murder.

The last thought sent him to his bed with weak knees. He knew he’d feel angry and furious, later, but now, right now…

Right now he just wanted her by his side.

The terrible, terrible things he’d said earlier chased the corners of his mind, trying to take over and drive his brain to madness.

Tsuna fell back among the plethora of blankets and pillows.

Fatigue born of loss and guilt wove itself into the very fabric of his being.

His eyelids—burning from exhaustion and tears he refused to shed–dropped and Tsuna felt as if his very soul were sinking into the plush bed to rest from the pain crushing it. Silken sheets, feather-filled pillows, downy blankets, a slip of… paper?

A slip of paper was on his bed.

A slip… of paper… was…

Was it a ransom note?

How had the bastards gotten into his room?

Tsuna growled. He was going to string his head of security up by his toes.

He rolled off his bed, rejuvenated slightly by the slip of paper.

A ransom note upped her chances of being alive, even if only minisculely. He all but ran to the bedside lamp and unfolded the note in the narrow circle of dim light.

His blood ran cold, freezing in his veins. A spear of ice ran down his spine. He forced himself to read the note a second time.

Now you don’t need to worry about marrying a two-bit waitress.

The sky burned.