#because I always got to use this big tub at my grandparents house full of crayons from my oldest cousin

[mulhollanddyke]

🥺

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (part 10)

A/N: Part of this chapter is inspired by the song 2 Years by Thomston. Thank you to the lovely anon that told me this song reminded them of this fic! I highly recommend listening to it! 

word count: 3.9k 

tw: mentions of childbirth, slight season 9 spoilers, otherwise fluffy 

masterlist: “A few months later we were in Boston, on that strangulation case. It’s a pretty hard case to forget, I mean, you delivered a baby. A real human baby, that you brought earthside with your own two hands. You delivered him, and she named him after you. Baby Spencer. 

Morgan and I dragged the unsub out into the street, hearing that poor woman scream and cry as you brought her baby into the world, but you did great, and he was beautiful. Just like his namesake. When I walked back inside I saw you give her the baby, and my heart just about melted into a puddle on the floor. You and kids, it just does something to me. It feels like my heart comes out of my body and into your hands like putty. It's an odd feeling, like you’re physically poking around in my chest. In a weird way I’ll miss it. 

Then I saw JJ give you a side hug, and put her arm on your chest. She even leaned into your neck, with a soft, sweet little nuzzle. You probably didn’t notice it, but I did. I always noticed. A million little ways to say ‘I love you’ without actually saying ‘I love you’. Right?

Yet again, I said nothing. I had no logical reason to be worried. She was married. You told me daily how much you loved me, how special I was, how beautiful, how amazing, how lucky you were. It’s a shame you didn’t feel like that at the end. But I made it okay. I told myself I was just overthinking it all, like usual. I buried it all down. Again, and again, and again. 

That night we went to that bar Rossi loves and everyone was happy, talking about how you delivered a baby. 

Alex asked you, “How on earth did you know what to do?” 

You explained how you memorized all the delivery manuals when JJ was pregnant, just in case. I often wonder if you’d do half the things you do for her, if it were for someone else. Or are some things just for JJ?

I just smiled and laughed, still pushing the feelings away. It was a night to celebrate and I was determined to not be a party pooper. Instead, I went the other way. I was the life of that party. We all got on stage and sang ‘Piano man’ karaoke, and if anyone was making love to a tonic and gin that night, it was me. Many, many, tonic and gins. I stumbled into an Uber with you and ended up at home. You helped me into bed. You wiped off my makeup and undressed me, putting one of your large shirts on me, leaving a bottle of water, two advils, and a note that said “i love you, love” for me to see when I woke up. Stuff like that makes me wonder if you’d only ever do some things for me. It sounds selfish, but I hope wiping my makeup off and putting my moisturizer on for me is something reserved for us. I know there are many things I have reserved just for you, Spence. No one will ever be that kind to me again, and that’s a fact.”

Are some things just for JJ? Really? He was irritated for a passing moment, why were you mad about him caring about his best friend? Before he had even met you?

But then that anger was soon replaced with confusion. Why’d you never mention it? In all the fights you had, you never once mentioned JJ. You never once threw the feelings that were so clear to everyone in his face. Why? Why not? 

Every word made him feel like he didn’t really know you, but also made him wonder if you even knew him? Because if you did you would’ve known he did nothing for JJ, but everything for you. 

“I immediately fell asleep.

 I woke up at some point, maybe around four am, and you weren’t in the bed next to me. I remember patting the sheets, looking for you as I usually did at night. To sleep, I needed to feel you pressed up against me. I didn’t. I panicked. I looked at the note, and for half a second I thought you left. It did look a little like a goodbye note, Spence. I yelled your name a few times, and when I didn’t get a response I really started to worry. I got out of bed and stumbled around; my head was still fuzzy. I walked around the house calling your name. You still didn’t answer. I finally found you on the balcony. 

It was warm for April, and you were sitting on a chair in your pajamas, staring at the stars. 

“Talking to the moon again?” I said, and you turned to look at me. 

The moon was a waxing crescent (thank you for that) so I couldn’t see you well. If it had been full, maybe I would’ve seen your sad eyes. 

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” You whispered.

I sat in the other chair, “I woke up and you weren’t there, so I came to find you. You scared me half to death, Reid.”

 I was looking at you but you wouldn’t look at me. I needed you to look at me.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Only if you come with me.” 

I was trying to be funny, but the pit in my stomach was insane. I really felt like I was staring the end in the face. That was the first time I ever saw you like that, completely shut out from me. You were always forthcoming with me, no matter what was going on. Your voice was rough, like you were getting a cold. You cleared your throat. 

“I think I want to stay out here a while longer.”

“Okay, then I’ll stay with you.”

“Y/N...” You were warning me, I should’ve listened. 

I stood up to walk back inside and I patted your shoulder. I disappeared to get a tub of ice cream and two spoons. We both knew your stomach would hurt afterwards, but we didn’t care. The comfort that binging on ice cream when you’re sad brings is well worth a tummy ache. And even in my half drunk brain fog, I could tell you needed it.”

Spencer chuckled, remembering how you always kept two tubs in the freezer “just in case.” Whenever one of you was having one of those days, the other would grab a tub, and you’d sit in silence and eat. That was back when each other’s company was enough. He still kept one tub in his freezer, hoping in some weird way that you’d be back and the two of you could sit and eat in silence, and somehow that would make it all okay. 

“We sat in silence staring at the sky and taking turns grabbing spoonfuls of cookie dough ice cream. It was comfortable, domestic, calm. 

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You shook your head, “Nothing’s bothering me.”

“You only talk to the moon when you’re upset, Spence.”

You sighed, knowing I was right. The ice cream was for bad days, but the moon was for when you needed to think. And think alone. You said staring up at the moon helped you feel grounded; it reminded you how important we are. It always reminded me of how small I am, how I am literally a speck of dust on a planet that’s a slightly bigger speck of dust that’s hurling through time and space. It reminds me of how small we all are in the grand scheme of the universe. Then you’d tell me: “Everything that makes up us is from those stars. We’re literally made of stardust.” Then I’d feel important too, because you made me important. I mattered because I was in this place at this time with you. You’d tell me about the big bang and the million miracles that led to us being here, alive in this moment. You’d say it reminded you how lucky you were that you got to exist in this world with me. I don’t know if I believe in God, Spence, but if there is one I thank him for letting me exist at the same time as you, even if it was only for a finite time.”

He had to remind himself to breathe. How could words suffocate? How could ink take his breath away? Spencer wished it was nighttime, so he could talk to the moon again, so he could feel important again, so he could feel lucky. 

“You didn’t answer.

“Was it the case?”

You just nodded slightly, as if to say ‘sort of’. 

“This is literally as good as it can go. We got the guy and you brought someone’s baby into the world. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a happier ending.”

“No.”

That’s all you said, and I let the silence fester. We both just kept eating the ice cream. After about fifteen minutes you said, “The world looks different from here.”

“From the balcony? Yeah I guess, the city looks small, tiny ant people.”

You chuckled, “No, like from where I am right now in my life. I just see the world different than I did yesterday.”

“And I’m sure we’ll look at it differently again tomorrow.” I was trying to help, but it was 4:30 in the morning and I was still slightly buzzed. No amount of ice cream or an existential crisis was going to get rid of that. 

“I held a human being in my hands as it took its first breaths today, Y/N. I was the first thing he ever saw. I literally held his life in my hands.” 

“I know. Maybe you should take up obstetrics.” Another failed attempt at a joke.

 “It just made me think.”

“About what?”

“I just, I always thought I wanted kids,” you said it doubtfully and with a shrug. You looked at me in my eyes finally, and wow did it hurt. 

“But now I’m not so sure.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw almost dropped. How did delivering a baby make you no longer want a village of kids on Christmas morning? I thought it’d have the opposite effect. I thought it’d ignite your baby fever, like it ignited mine. My heart sank, “Why?” 

“I-I don’t know.”

I tried, again, to lighten the mood, “Is it because of the actual birth part? Because I promise I can handle it. No epidurals for me.”

You half smiled, “No, no it’s not that.”“Well then what is it?” I had this dreadful feeling that you were going to tell me that it was me. That I was the reason. That you wanted kids, but you didn’t want them with me.

 “How am I supposed to pass on these genes?”

“Your super smart, tall, handsome, magnificent genius genes? C’mon Spence,” I scoffed. 

“I meant schizophrenia.”

The air went cold between us. 

“You don’t have it though.”

“Having a grandparent with the disease increases your chances of developing it by 5%.”

“Yeah, and I have bad eyesight and terrible allergies and had braces as a kid, which our kids will inherit.” 

“You don’t understand what I mean.”

I rolled my eyes, “No, Love, I don’t. But I do know that you can’t be scared of what ifs.”

You ran your hands through your hair, and just groaned. You sighed, but I kept rambling. I blame my loose lips on Rossi. He kept buying, and I kept drinking.

“And there’s so many what ifs. What if they do get schizophrenia? But what if they don’t and you didn’t have kids because you were scared?”

“It’s not just that it’s—”

“It’s what Spencer?”

“I-I didn’t have a dad! I don’t know how to be one.”

We sat in silence. I didn’t know what to say. 

“I just don’t think it’s for me anymore.”

I felt tears sting my eyes. If we weren’t on the same page, this conversation was going to end horribly. “

But if you don’t want them then—“ I stopped and shakily wiped my face. 

“Then what?” You sounded scared.

I stopped myself from saying something that I’d regret. I wanted to say ‘then I can’t do this.’ Thank god I didn’t. 

“I just, I always thought my kids would be your kids too. I don’t think I want to be a parent if you aren’t there with me.”

Your eyes were shining from the tears and the sliver of moon when they met mine, “Really?”“

Yeah, I’ve told you this a million times, love. You will be the best father because you know what it’s like to not have one. You become better than the people before you.”

You dropped the spoon into the almost empty tub, “I know, I know. I just got in my head about it all.”

“Stop thinking about years ahead, Spence. All you have to think about is right now. I know it feels like we’re running out of time, but don’t rush life.”

You smiled watery and I went to sit on your lap. You rubbed your hand against the small of my back and we watched the sun start to rise. We were done talking to the moon. I dragged you inside, the new day’s sun was coming in through the windows. 

“Do you really think you’re running out of time?” You asked me, holding me close.

 I nodded, “Yeah. I always feel like I am. I thought I’d have two kids and a golden retriever by thirty-one, but I have none of that and I’m getting close to thirty-two. Twenty-four hours just feels shorter and shorter everyday.”

“That’s because each day is a smaller and smaller fraction of our memories. Time feels quicker and quicker every day.”

There you were. There was my love. My you. 

I squeezed you, “I know. It’s just scary. I feel like I’m behind.”

“I feel like that a lot too. You know I thought I’d cure schizophrenia by twenty-five?”

I smiled, “Even you can’t do everything, love.”

“Do you want to catch up?”

“How so?”

“We could get a golden retriever.”

I laughed, “Sure, and next you’ll be saying ‘let’s have a baby.’”

You shrugged and swooped me in front of you, “Why not? Me, you, a baby, sounds pretty good.” 

You said it as a joke, but it didn’t feel like one. “

You mean that?” I looked up at you and could see that longing in your eyes. You could see it in mine too. Always so pensive, Spencer Reid. 

“I didn’t mean like right now, but we can soon. We have to get married first.”

I rolled my eyes, “Who says we need to get married first? JJ and Will didn’t get married until Henry was four. They’re perfect.”

“Henry wasn’t planned.”

“And?”

“And, I’d like to marry you before knocking you up,” you said it like a joke again, peppering me in kisses. 

“We don’t need a stupid piece of paper from the government, Love.”

“So you don’t want to marry me?” There was amusement in your voice. 

“Oh, I want to marry you. I want to marry you so hard, Spencer Reid.”

We laughed, “I want to marry you so hard too.”

You kissed my forehead, and then my lips before moving away from me. 

“So, we both know we want to marry each other and we just agreed to have a baby, like soon?” I clarified. 

“Yes. We did. So, what’s stopping us from doing it right now?” You started milling around in the book case, looking for something. “

Don’t you dare get down on one knee right now, Spencer Reid. I told you already, I am not getting engaged without my nails done.”

You smiled, “I wasn’t! I wasn’t! I was just going to put on some music.” You held up a CD, and I smiled. You came back and pulled me close, and we started to sway back and forth. I always wanted to dance in the kitchen with the love of my life. That morning I did.

After the song ended, we went up to bed finally. I remember laying down and kissing you, going to the place we usually went. Afterwards, you held me against your chest again, “Did you mean it?”

I nodded, “Every word.”

You sighed happily, “So did I.”

I looked up at you, grinning, “So does that mean puppy Reid and baby Reid are coming soon?”

You rolled your eyes, “Puppy Reid, I can handle. But baby Reid is after Mrs. Reid. Call me old fashioned, but that’s how I want to do this.”

I toyed with your hair, “I can handle that.”

While I was packing, I found the CD you were rummaging for. I put it on and danced around the kitchen again. It wasn’t the same. ‘Your Song’ by Elton John is a love song, and love songs just hurt when you’re alone. I swayed in the sunlight, imagining you were swaying with me, talking about having a baby and getting married. I miss that feeling. I miss talking to the moon. I miss ice cream. I miss dancing in the kitchen to Elton John. I miss baggy tee shirts. I miss little notes. I miss the way “How wonderful life is when you’re in the world” felt when I was in your arms. I miss late night kissing. I miss the way you feel with me. I miss us. I miss you, but I miss that you. 

You’re probably wondering what your souvenir from that night is. I thought about giving you the CD, I thought about giving you some ice cream and a spoon, I even thought about giving you the moon, but I decided on the note. “I love you, love.” 

The note was badly wrinkled and his pencil chicken scratch was faded with time. He smiled, remembering the hundreds of notes he probably left you. They always ended in “I love you” with a little doodled heart. He remembered dancing in the sunlight and looking at engagement rings and rescue dogs. He missed you, and not just the version of you from that memory. He missed the version of you from the end. He hated that you didn’t miss that him too.  

“I thought going through all of this would bring me some closure, and now that we’re halfway through I realize that was a mistake. Instead of stitching me up, this opened wounds I thought I had long since healed. This brought it all back. I hope this doesn’t do that for you. I hope it’s the period on the end of this run on sentence. I hope this is closure for you. We both need that.”

He took the letter and the note and walked to his bed, flopping on it and staring at the ceiling fan. It was soothing, in a weird way. He fell into a trance. 

His phone ringing tried to snap him out of it. He didn’t reach for it and waited until the vibrations died. They came again, and he forced himself to look at it. 

JJ. 

Great, first Derek, now JJ. He knew they were just being good friends, but it was getting tiring. He wanted to just be alone, and he especially didn’t want to hear from JJ. His relationship with her was a point of contention with you and he didn’t even know. Between what he had just read and the photo from her wedding, all the old feelings he had for her were brought back to the surface and made him feel gross. He now realized the way your face would turn sour whenever he would pick JJ up in a spin and your off remarks when he’d mention going out with her. In hindsight, you were being jealous but somewhat reasonable. Before he met you, he wondered if he was just waiting for an alternate universe where he could be with JJ. One where there was no Will and no bad Redskins date, where he could look at her without it hurting. Now he knew he’d only be waiting for an alternate universe where he could be with you. 

The phone buzzed again and he finally decided to grab it and answer. 

“Hello?”His voice was groggy and hoarse from not being used. 

“Spence? Hey, it’s me, I just wanted to see if you were okay?”

He didn’t answer, eyes still trained on the fan. 

She cleared her throat, “I just talked to Derek and...”

“What’d he say?”

“He told me about the letters, little dramatic huh?”

He could hear her roll her eyes. JJ was the sweetest person alive, but when it came to Spencer the claws could come out. 

“Yeah, I’m up to number ten,” he kept his voice steady and almost bored, not wanting to reveal anything to her. 

“Out of how many?”

“Fifteen.”

Spencer stood up and walked to the window by the chess table.

 “How are you doing?”

“Did you know every seven to ten years our cells regenerate completely?” Spencer spoke into the phone, staring out the window. It was mid afternoon by now and the snow had stopped. The cars on the road had ruined the innocent white snow, leaving dark gray slush in their wake.

“Every cell?” JJ said back, the phone making her voice crackly and hard to hear. 

“Yeah, skin cells live two to three weeks,” He swallowed thickly, “So the skin she has right now is skin I’ve never touched. Those cells don’t know who I am. My lips are already on the second cycle. They’ve never kissed her. Eventually I’ll have a body that doesn’t recognize hers and she’ll have a body that recognizes someone who isn’t me.”

JJ didn’t speak, just sighed, “You know that isn’t true.”

“It is, Jennifer,” He ran his hands through his hair, “I’m going to be stuck here and she’s going to move on and it’s killing me.” His voice cracked at the end.

 “Then don’t think of it as being stuck, think of it as a turning point. You get to choose a direction now. You’re at a crossroads, Spence, you can choose to move on.” 

She sounded earnest and he knew she was right, but he couldn’t help the feeling. It’s like he was in quicksand and no one could pull him out. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. 

JJ sighed, “Do you want to talk about the letters?”

“No,” he said harsher than he intended, “I just want to finish this and then figure out what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me.”

He nodded as if she could see him and whispered, “Bye.”

He hung up before she could respond. He threw the phone on the window sill and walked to the bathroom, splashing cold water over his face. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror. It looked foreign. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, his skin looked pale, and his hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed, which he kind of had. He felt like his whole body was bruised. He toyed with his hair to get it to a tolerable place and sat back down on his bed, grabbing the tenth letter.

part 11!

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[sickly-qt]

hi! I know you’re taking a little break but whenever you come back (take all the time you need!) I would love to see a fic with a sick Remy or sick Mila and the other one takes care of the other . Xoxo

aaaa this has been in my asks for a little while and I’m sorry this took me so long. I realized that I kinda neglect Mila a bit when it comes to being sick so I decided to use her in this one! 

Also, I’m sorry this is a bit rough, I’m still trying to get back into the swing of writing full length fics.

Warnings: Descriptions of vomit.

“Jesus Christ, I have been waiting to get these damn shoes off since your mother started asking about my medical background.” Mila said, slipping out of her shoes inside of the door. 

“Are they really that uncomfortable?” Remy asked, closing and locking the door behind them.

“They give me blisters on the back of my feet.” She replied, frowning.

“Why do you wear them if they cause you so much trouble?”

“Because beauty is pain, Remington Paxton.” She mumbled.

“I always thought that was a stupid saying… but they do look good.” He said, wrapping his arms around her.

“Exactly, and you know better than anyone else that I have to try very hard to impress your mother.” 

“Unfortunately I do.” He sighed, “Lee is with her grandparents for the weekend which means that we are open to do whatever we want.”

“Is your mind in the same place mine is?” Mila asked, grabbing his hands and pulling them tighter around her. 

“That we can watch Peaky Blinders without Leah being exposed to things a 4 year old should never be.” He said into her ear.

“You know me.” She smiled, kissing his cheek. “I want to take a shower and get changed first though.”

“Okay, I will get changed and meet you down here.” 

Remy was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone when Mila came back down, she was in pajamas and her hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. She sat across from him on the couch and pulled a blanket up to her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Remy asked, reaching out to tub her leg. She didn’t look as eager to sit down and watch TV as she had before her shower.

“Nothing, My stomach’s just a little upset.” She said, burying herself under the blankets.

Remy watched her for a second before he grabbed the remote, “Do you feel sick?” He asked nonchalantly.

She shrugged, and turned her attention to the TV. “I think I just ate too much, it’s not that big of a deal.”

He didn’t believe her, but let it go. He knew that Mila would let him know if anything was actually wrong.

They made it through about an episode and a half of their show when before Mila started dozing off, her head bobbing as she tried to keep her eyes open. After a couple minutes of watching her struggle to stay awake Remy paused the show.

“You’re not going to make it through this episode, Love. Why don’t you just head up to bed, I’ll be up in a couple minutes.”

Mila sat up and nodded, “Sorry, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m usually good until at least midnight.” She smiled tiredly.

Remy got up and rubbed her shoulders from over the back of the couch, “It’s fine, you aren’t feeling great, just try to get some sleep.”

“How long will you be?” She asked, getting up and heading toward the stairs.

“Not that long, I just want to clean up a little bit. We don’t need Leah’s things everywhere when she isn’t even here. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Don’t be long.” She called behind her while she headed up to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mila.” Remy whispered when he walked into the bedroom, “Are you sleeping?”

“No.” She mumbled from her side of the bed.

“I brought you water.”

“Thank you.” She said, sitting up and taking the glass from him. She had pulled her hair down from it’s bun, the damp strands falling over her shoulders.

“Are you feeling any better?” 

“I think it’s getting worse.” she said, taking a sip of water. “After a huge rich people dinner is truly the worst time to come down with a bug.”

Remy scrunched his nose, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, you can’t help me from catching things.”

“That doesn’t stop me from wishing I could.” He said, pulling her close to him.

“Hmm, you’re too kind.” She murmured into his shirt.

“I try.” He replied quietly.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he did remember waking up to a commotion in the room. He lifted his head and looked around, his first instinct to look for Leah to make sure she was okay. It took him a couple seconds to remember that Leah wasn’t even in the house, but he did notice the fluorescent light flowing from underneath the bathroom door.

He got up and padded across the bedroom, tapping gently on the bathroom door. “M? Are you okay?” 

He received no response save for an unpleasant sloshing sound and coughing. He slowly turned the doorknob and looked into the bathroom. Mila was kneeling in front of the toilet, holding her hair out of her face with one hand and the other on the toilet handle. Remy walked across the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub before leaning forward and grabbing her hair. She moved her hand and gripped the toilet bowl, her body heaved and more of her stomach contents splashed into the toilet. Remy started rubbing her back with his other hand. There was only one more wave of sickness before it seemed like she was finished and she flushed the toilet. 

“Can you hand me a tissue?” She asked hoarsely.

“Yeah.” Remy got up and leaned over her to grab a couple of tissues out of the box on the back of the toilet.

“Thanks.” She said, Then blew her nose and dropped the tissue into the toilet bowl before flushing again.

She sat up and sniffed before getting up onto her knees to grab a few more tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose again, before throwing them into the trash can.

“Do you feel any better?” Remy asked, sitting back on the edge of the tub and putting his hand on her back.

“A little.” she said, nodding. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“Yes, M. You totally need to apologize for being sick. How dare you.” He teased.

She pushed his knee playfully, before getting up. “God, that was gross.” She said quietly, rinsing her mouth out in the sink.

“A little, yeah.” Remy mumbled, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her from behind, “but I’m glad it’s me that gets to see you being gross.”

“Ew, if you get any cheesier I might throw up again.” She said, turning around and laying her head on his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He said, kissing the top of her head. “C’mon, let’s go back to bed.”

[sabrinamichele]

Dear you,

I’ve meant to write you, so many times…and yet it hasn’t felt right, until now. I want to write to you, before I meet you, as I feel there’s so much I want you to know. About the girl before, the girl that was, before the woman you will one day meet. Tonight finally feels like a good time to at least start. Because tonight I just learned my last living grandparent, my grandma Mae, passed away today. My heart breaks tonight, not just because she is gone, but because you will never meet her, nor any of the amazing people who were a part of that generation, who helped raise me, helped make me who I am today. My heart aches with all that loss. The love, the life, the laughter…a familiarity so comfortable that there is almost a physical ache in the knowledge that it is forever gone. I hope one day to tell you about each of them, to hopefully give you an idea of who they were, at least to me, even if I know I will never do it fully justice. I think that’s why I want to start writing you now. Full well knowing how it must sound, and how it will look, I’m doing this for you, and I’m doing this for me.

I’ve known for just a little over a week now that my grandma had just about a week left. It wasn’t even that surprising; I have known deep down that this was probably coming— resolved myself to it, told myself all of the rational things, “this happens,” “she’s older,” etc., etc. But even still, hearing it out loud, it hit me…harder than I expected it to. And I knew that I needed to see her. I knew this was important. More than work, or the mundane day-to-day things that seem to matter so much—until they don’t. So I went, and I saw her. Even though her body didn’t seem to be hers anymore, and her mind was no longer serving her as it should, it was still her, and she knew who I was, and that was all that I could ask for. To see her, to say I loved her—and to hear her say it back—it was everything. My heart still aches for my parent and aunt and uncle who have been with her non-stop since this started, and the grief I know that they must be feeling too. Grandma Mae had just turned ninety years old. A small woman, but she had a spark. So much spunk and personality there. They lived humbly, my grandpa Vance and her—but you’d never hear her ever in a negative spirit. She always seemed to have a positive thing to say; usually it was some funny story she would be hearing about this, that or the other. “About whichmajigger” was a pretty common saying, because the name of the person would escape her. Mae and Vance lived on a farm about an hour north of the small town I grew up in, in Oregon, in an even tinier town named Halsey. There were many summers when my younger brother and I would get shipped off to our grandparents for a month (or at least it felt like a month). So many memories: That little ramshackle house, the barn, the feral cats that lived under the house—there were always kittens, which I was always chasing in the hopes of catching one to just love on it, to be inevitably scratched up mercilessly by it, drop it, and the cycle would start all over again. The old white, deep clawfoot bathtub that scratched our bottoms raw from the roughness of the tub. Hundreds of VHS tapes meticulously organized and labeled, three moves to a tape, which we spent hours watching in front of their tv in their living room. The dozens of old clocks, that you would hear in their varying chiming, dings, cuckoos, and even bird calls (yes, bird calls) at the top of every hour. I can remember being very young one night, sleeping in the living room at their farmhouse, waking up and just hearing all of those clocks—their ticking so loud in the dead of night that I just sat there and listened. I remember the stories. Oh the stories they would tell us of us “hoodlum children.” Ha! I don’t actually remember this personally, I must have been too young, but I loved hearing my grandma tell it. Both my grandparents had previous marriages, so there were often times I would come to visit that my grandpa Vance’s other grandchildren would be visiting them as well. I think there must have been four of us, all boys, save for me. My grandparents would often take us to the coast in their trailer, all of us kids sleeping on one small kitchen table, converted into a bed come night. Apparently the boys were “little terrors,” the entire time—or so the story goes, according to Grandma Mae—but, even so, they treated me like, “a little lady.” It still shocks me, thinking about it now (especially knowing how incredibly cold the ocean is off the Oregon Coast), but apparently whenever they would take us to the beach, we wouldn’t be there but five minutes before we were all of us, all four boys and Sabrina, tearing our clothes off and running pell-mell for the ocean to get in. *laughs* I think about that now, and I can’t help but laugh. We must have come out of that water completely sopping wet, sandy, and shivering from the cold—probably a complete mess and utter handful—but all Grandma Mae did was laugh when she told the story. I love thinking about her laughing. I will always remember her that way—happy, and just so easy to be around. And I remember she used to sing. I

wish my memory was better, but I think I remember she used to sing to me at night before I fell asleep. I’ve always thought it was my grandma Mae that got me singing when I was a child. Something that so many people didn’t know I could do for years, because I was so terrified of getting up on a stage in front of people and singing. And even now, it seems to be a secret I have kept, yet again—one that breaks my heart. Oh how I secretly long and wish to sing again. I hope to find a way to do so again. My heart feels so big and full when I do. I hope one day to share it with you.

There are so many memories, and so many more I could share. Thank you for listening to these ones. More than anything, though…I have to admit, I hate that you’re not here. I hate it. Six years—for six years I have been navigating being single and dating, and it’s been gut wrenching. I know it’s weird—talking about it, even just acknowledging it—but I make no apologies for it. I only wish I hadn’t had to experience so much heartbreak. I wish I had already met you. I have been looking for you, this entire time—every time hoping it would be you. I do not know why I wasn’t meant to meet you yet, nor why I still haven’t met you, but I find a small measure of comfort knowing I may not have been ready to (yet). But I am now. I am so ready. With that said, I am sorry you will not ever know the girl I was, before. The strong-willed, headstrong, stubborn, full of life girl that I was. She’s still there, I promise. She still has her moments. Haha! I’m sorry you will not meet a girl with the naïveté of youth, or wanting a romantic, “fairy-tale” wedding. I’m afraid I have already been there, done that, and come out the other end. While I may have lost some of that, the girl who wants to be treated special, like she’s the most important, most beautiful woman in the room—she’s still in there. I still have a romantic heart, that still beats, even after having been broken a few times. I just don’t know how much more I can take, to be perfectly honest. I want to find you, I want it more than I can even say…but I also have to protect this heart of mine. She’s so incredibly tired—of being stomped on, of being passed by, of not being taken care of—that I don’t think I can take it another time. So, I’ve stopped looking. And especially here—Sacramento is the worst, or at least it has been for me. That’s not to say I’ve entirely given up…at least not on the idea of you. The hope of you. That somehow you exist—as hard as that is to imagine, well-meaning people continue to tell me that you do. Here’s the thing: I will not settle. I have not settled. I’m here, living my best life, waiting for you to join me in it. I hope that you will. But even if you don’t? I will just keep on living my dreams out—with every adventure, every trip…I just sometimes wish I could have you in my life to share all of them with you. I want that so bad. I hope that one day we can share all of the stories, all of the adventures in life that led to us finally meeting. I also hope that you don’t let the strong woman you meet one day intimidate you too much; at least not enough to not approach me. I hope that you do. I hope you make the first move. I hope you aren’t afraid to ask me on a date, and the next date, and the next. I hope that, no matter when you meet me, you pursue me. And I hope you don’t ever let me go.

Until that day, I know I am going to keep loving the hell out of me, wishing you were here, but continuing on—the strong, resilient, independent woman that I am. I have so much more that I could say, but I think that’s probably enough for tonight.

So with that I will say goodnight.

Love, me.

[popculturebuffet]

Jake Reviews Amphibia: Handy Anne and Fort in the Road

It’s finally here... the second time i’ve said that in three days but hey, Amphibia is back! After a years hiatus due to the show being shoved out in a month to get it on disney plus faster (Yet they STILL don’t have wonder over yonder so I can finally watch season 2. God damn. ), one of the best new shows of a year stuffed with them is back! I was excited about this one from the start. A great premise, a gravity falls pedegriee, and the wonderful Brenda Song, who I had a crush on when I was younger despite not really watching the first suite life that much, though I will admit what I saw was pretty decent and had a wonderful cast especially song and Phil Morris as Mr.Mosby.. it was just overshadowed by i’ts two leads being really sterotypical (the cool but dumb hustler and the stick in the mud nerd) and I was more of a nick middle schooler anyway so I barely touched it. Granted if I could go back in time and trade which shows I watched i’d trade it for Zoey 101 in a heartbeat, another show with awful leads but the rest of the main cast was really good concidentally. 

Anyways I did watch more of on deck to  kill time and absolutley hated it. Seroiulsy the show really sucks: Zack and Cody were turned into basically worse versions of Zack Morris and Ross Gellar, worse because while their just as douchey as those two, Mark  Paul Gossler and David Schiwmer can actually act and Cole Sprouse could not yet. I do say yet since Cole Sprouse has grown because he wasn’t half bad in the one season of riverdale I watched. Riverdale, what happens when you have the entire writers room snort a line of coke and then tell them to write the most insane archie fanfiction they can and stitch the results together. Just with Archie alone from what i’ve seen in read he’s started a vigilante posse ala homer simpson, nearly joined hte mafia, been framed form murder, had the local cheerleaders do a number for him while he played prison football, escaped prison to hide in canda from both his former mafia boss whose also his girlfriend’s dad and the cult based on a  DnD knockoff, got mauled by a bear and LIVED, and now is a superhero apparently. WHy I haven’t gone back to at the very least review this clusterfuck is a mystery.  But the point is the twins were really terrible at the time, and if the fact Dylan’s only major role recently is in the sequel to After, that film based on self insert one direction fanfiction, which somehow got a sequel while Birds of Prey probably won’t because god really does hate me. So it was bad and she deserved better, got better with the social network but hadn’t done much i’d seen, so a new cartoon starting her in her elment and in a great show for once had me pumped.  And.. my faith paid off. The show is beautifully animated, ahs a wonderfully morbid and fully fleshed out world, top notch voice acting (including BIll Farmer who is so unreconizable as hop pop I thought he was voiced by charlie addler), great jokes, action and storytelling. Just a slam dunk that left be jonesning for me. And now in one of the best weeks for animation in a while, more is here. I do mean that: 3/4 of disney’s major animated shows returning and close enough finally airing it’s a good time.  When we last left our heroes: Hop Pop buired the box that brought anne there and lied to her about it which even a year later I think is a terrible decision.. one made for understandable reasons as he clearly knows something more about it than she does, but one that’s bound ot backfire whens he finds out her new grandpa lied to her and betrayed her. The plantars also spent the season preparing to leave wartwood. Soon after, Anne was forced to finally stand up to her manipulative, if to my utter shock still caring about her and possibly being into her? I mean it’s not like I haven’t seen the “villian whose overcompensating for a terrible past and likes manipualting people redeemed and ending up smooching the somewhat reckless but good hearted heroine” before. 

Anyways Sasha ends up nearly falling off a giant tower, Anne tries to save her, with the rest of her new family pitching in, and Sasha, realizing just how terrible she’s been just.. let’s her self fall, only saved because Grime caught her. And just remembering that sequence god dman.. the fact they actually got the rights to lean on me for it really dosen’t help. But the day was saved and while Anne had a huge bundle of trauma, the family was ready to finally set out soon. And now a year later i’ts time. Now i’ve gotten all the personal stuff out of the way, let’s hop to it and see what the new season has to offer. Full review with spoilers under the cut!

Handy Anne

So the Plantars are finally setting off. We don’t touch on the Sasha thing much, just a quick bit at the begining to show that while Anne is insiting she’s fine it really traumatized her. I do like kids shows starting to show more that sometimes heroes just DON’T bounce back after something like this, especially young ones. While it’ isn’t nearly to the extent of Steven Universe spending an entire season having his lack of thearpy and unresolved issues slowly destroy him, it’s still nice to see. But the main thrust of the episode is it’s vacation time brother!

Yup after a few episodes of build up last season with the valley clear, Hop Pop has bought a suprisingly nice and affordable wagon (As Polly excitedly explains someone died in it) so they can finally set out to hopefully find Anne a way home. Their going to Oregon! I mean To newtopia, the beating heart of Amphibia: a bustling metroplis built on knowledge where they can hopefully find a way to get Anne and friends back home, while Anne hopes to find Marcy. The rest of the kids are also excited just to get out of the valley for the first time.  Everyone’s pumped.. but Anne starts to worry when she finds out Hop Pop has asked his friend Chuck, the “I grow tulips” guy from the bug ball episode last season who I forgot about but was reminded why I love him and am glad to have him back, to watch the house as given Amphibia is hard enough to surivive on a good day, let alone if your a stationary building. And Chuck dosen’t insprie confidence so Anne decides to fortify the house. And her reasoning.. is actually really sweet and shows how much she’s grown: Instead of like most times where her impulsivness is the reason shenanigans and life thretaning situations happen here.. she’s hit with the hard relization her new family is basically risking everything, their home, their farm, their chuck, to help her get home. 

So Anne decides to armor up the house, getting a fuck ton of shovels and a ton of suplies from the blacksmith guy who suprisngly for once DOES have what she needs for her veggies, to the point his not backtracking weirds anne out, and gives her a tub of goo. This can only end well! Meanwile the rest of the family pack. Polly having maybe 3 possesions gets done quick, Hop Pop is being anal reteitive as always with his ascots (hilariously done and Bill Farmer really is the MVP of this series), while Sprig’s gone half insane just picking out which slingshot to take as he never left, which polly of course exploits.  But things natrually go wrong as the goo creates veggie monsters the family fights (with sprig even calling fight time because this is normal to them at this point) the next mornign and then one colosus that destroys the house... and Anne’s anger and heartbreak over it .. awakens something. See something I hadn’t heard about and didn’t notice at the ebgining of the series was anne’s eyes flashing blue while fighting the mantis in the first episode. Many couldn’t tell if it was leading somewhere or just an animation error. Here though her eyes go bright blue in close up with it being clear this is part of her.. the question what is it and why? Just what power does she have now? And will it save the world or destroy it? Questions for later Anne saves the day, an admits she screwed up but Hop Pop is understanding: He’s touched by her actions but also explains their not just doing this for her: their with her all the way and any sacrifice is worth it. And I like that part of hop pop: while he can be overbearing, just see next episode.. he does genuinely mean well and has genuine wisdom, something they sometimes forget with grandparent characters in animation. He’s crotchety and a stick in the mud, but he’s still throughly nice and understanding and it shows here: He’s going to get his daughter back whatever it takes.. almost.  Hop Pop calls on chuck who in a whilrwind of tools and tulips fixes the place.. and proves to be every bit the legend I thought him. He sells tulips and he’s great. We’ll miss you chuck. But as they get ready to leave Anne brings up the box and Hop Pop, remembering what he did, hastily says it’s better with their contacts. WHich again just seems short sided: while he is trying to protect her, especially since next episode confirms there was some sort of apocalypse once so odds are her being connected to it might not be the best, he can’t dance around her connection to it forever, and hiding the fact some apolcaypse was caused by it is only going to backfire when some vilian reveals it or anne finds it out for herself. Taking her to a place full of infomration where he’ll now have to work to hide the truth is just asking for this to backfire. Not bringing it is one thing, dangerous people could still get the box and use it for their own ends.. we’ve seen female newt sabertooth in the promos and we’ve met Grime. But not telling her is just setitng himself up for a big and deeserved fall soon. But with that settled our heroes set out! 

Final Thoughts I:  Overall this was a good start to the season: my one real complaint is the town didn’t really see them off or anything, so the large and loveable supporting cast is just.. absent unless the series returns to wartwood at some point and it would’ve been nice to see them once last time. Even star vs, as bad as season 3 was, knew we wouldn’t be seeing most of the earth cast for a whie and had marco have a meaningful sendoff before he left. But.. given how tight the phacing seems to be this season judging by episode titles alone, and they only had 11 minutes here. I do think it could’ve been in hte next episode, but it dosen’t ruin a decent, fun start to the season really rooted in character stuff. Not the series finest 11 minutes, but still really good and a good way to start us off. 

Fort in the Road: 

First off your welcome for that episode screencap. Now this one’s also simple, but ends up having a rather sizeable revelation nestled inside. The Plantars are going down the road and while the kids want to you know explore, see places, actually enjoy the trip especailly since Sprig and Polly have never been anywhere else before, Hop Pop, being hop pop, instead just wants them to sit and be quite and follow his rules. I mean it is hte grind but you can at least make it FUN for htem; Just look at this guy. 

It took an episode longer than I thought to refrence the trail to oregon given this season is about a wagon trip, but I’m glad to do it .. and do it again. I will fit pays to be an animal in here somewhere I swear it. WE’ve got time left in the road trip.  Anyways this goes down terribly, though some rules like not posing dramatically as it smacks of hubris and never ends well. But understandably the kids are annoyed about it: Anne can’t even compallin because i’ts not in the rules.  So naturally as Hop Pop should’ve seen coming at the first opprotuunity Anne fakes being cart sick and they run off to see a weird looking ruin with Hop Pop chasing them and leaving the cart to polly because that can’t end well but he’s on a short time.  And this is where the season drops a 10 ton atomic bombshell. Anne being kinda magic in the last episode and it being fully part of things now is intresting and shocking.. but this is miles ahead of it and casts Hop Pop’s actions: Turns out whatever the clamamity box did set techniology in amphibia back to a little above the dark ages. I mean they have full light thanks to lightning bugs, but their still leagues behind.. but were once up to at least mid 2000′s levels of technology. The machine seen requires a disk to stop, but it’s still far beyond what I expcted from this world. Naturally Hop Pop shows up furious, then gets stuck on the assembly line with the kids deseprate to save him, with spirg ending up doing sow ith the rule book. Also we get Anne’s wonderful repsonse to Sprig asking what a disk is:  “I don’t know! i’m from another dimension not the 90s!”  They surivive, the factory blows up and the kids apologize and agree to go back to the boring way things have been going.. but Hop Pop thankfully realizes he’s been a bit overbearing and actually gives a good reason why: He’s never taken then out of the valley before and simply got overprotective. This is his family after all, all he has left of his kid and all he really has left beside Sylvia and the farm. It’s understandble he’d go a bit overboard. But Hop Pop decides to compromise a bit in a nice moment: while the impalment fields are obviously a non starter, he does get the kids ice cream (Anne even admits at this point she dosen’t pick the bugs out anymore), and they genuinely enjoy the trip while Sprig (in a hilarious bit of lampshadng as he does it repeadtly) wonders jsut what they were making.. and as I spoiled it was robots.. one of whom is now following them. Wether this means new doom or the plantars getting a new robot family member I don’t know i’m hoping for the latter. Everyone needs a vision in their life.   Final thoughts II: While having a bit of an obvious conflict with an obvious resolution the character work combined with the MASSIVE plot bombshell really make this enjoyable and I hope to find out more about just what the hell happened and what these robots are for. Just another good solid episode and an excellent duo to start the season.  Next week: Things take a turn for the western and Anne learns to hunt and more about the glow. And with the glow you need to grow to glow... until then i’ll likely have mor ereviews on this channel, I recently reveiwed all of season 1 of close enough if your curious, and until next time.. play us out Willie!

I love what i’ve seen of this throughly stupid movie. Bye ya’ll! 

[bourbonboredom]

A Reason To Believe Chapter 14

Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.

A Flip x OC Fic

Word Count: 3,817

Warnings: none

The night is gone

The light has come

A new day has begun

The weather is clear

And people are here

And morning's here

Calling everyone

(x)

The office is always a little quieter after an undercover mission is completed. Usually because the mountains of paperwork leave little time for chitchat. There was less of a busy feeling in the air though in the weeks after the explosion, it was more of simmering tension.

The case had been declared shut just a few days after the attack, but not because Ron or Flip felt it was done. Chief Bridges had made the declaration, finding the klan no longer posing a threat after the death of three members. It was bullshit and everyone knew it. To make things more outrageous, Bridges said he wanted everything to do with the case destroyed.

Flip was furious. He'd wound up walking out of the office before Bridges had stopped talking. This wasn't fair, this wasn't over. Just because three died doesn't mean there wasn't still a whole chapter in Colorado Springs left. Or that Duke wasn't still running hundreds of other chapters. No one was safer from anything happening.

Him and Ron barely looked at each other the rest of the day, both to angry to even talk about with with one another. The boxes that contained evidence were now siting next to his trash can, they weren't of any use to the case if there wasn't even going to be a case of record. The second he was off is shift he'd stormed out of the building, racing to get home.

He'd packed up some essentials from his house; clothes, documents, his photos and army memorabilia, and put it in the trunk of his car. With the organization knowing his residence, he couldn't live there anymore. He'd find a new place to live in the next few days, there were bound to be apartments with vacancies. In the meantime, he could rent a motel room or crash on Jimmy's couch, or something.

As he sat in his car, his mind wandered to Elle. At least this would give him more time to be with her. Maybe she'd let him spend the night more often, let him hold her close and tell him that things would work out.

He started his car and headed in the direction of her apartment. He'd probably get to her place before she got off work, but she didn't mind him hanging around there now. She gave him a key after all. He unlocked her front door, pulled a Coors from the fridge and sat on the couch, processing the days events.

Elle got home a half hour later. She was dressed in her shirt and pants with her necklace secured back around her neck with a new chain. She looked happy to see him, but her face feel after she saw his expression.

"Hey, is everything okay?" She pried off her shoes and sat beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"The chief closed the case even though he knows the organization is still a threat. He wants us to erase it from record. Everything about the klan must go," He mumbled. He knows he shouldn't tell her, but he doesn't give a fuck.

"What?" Her voice was full of shock, partially from the news and partially because he'd actually told her what was going on. "Why would he do that?"

"Who knows. But it's over, I gotta cut ties with the organization. And probably move because they know where I live now,"

"One, fuck your boss. He's an idiot and I'd give him a piece of my mind if you'd let me," She started.

"My boss can't know that you know about all this," He interjected.

"I know. But he's an idiot for shutting that down. You and Ron were doing great things." She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "And two, move in with me,"

"What?" He wasn't sure he heard her correctly.

"Move in with me, you practically live here anyways. There's enough room for two people, and I'm ready for it if you are,"

"Aren't you worried about what people are gonna say? What your landlord could say? Most people around here don't live together until they're married,"

"It's my apartment and there's nothing in my lease that says anything about it. I don't care what people will have to say, it's our life not theirs," She broke into a sly smile after her statement. "Besides, what are they gonna do? Call the cops?"

He cracked a smile and swooped her into a kiss.

"I love you," He murmured against her lips

"Is that a yes?"

"It's a yes,"

He heart felt full. The abrupt ending for the case was awful, and he knew he'd feel that way for a long time. But now he knew he'd be coming home to her every night. He held her against his chest, his heart beat feeling even as he calmed down. He was going to be able to get through this, get through anything, with Elle next to him.

----------

Weeks later, the office was starting to get back to normal. The holiday season was starting up, putting everyone in a better mood despite the air growing colder and snow starting to fall.

It was the end of November, and staying true to his promise, Flip was ready to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah with Elle. He noticed more than usual this year how Christmas completely dominated the season. He could count the number of menorahs he saw around town on one hand, and nothing was marketed in stores for the holiday.

He picked Elle up at the hospital that night, the two of them were going grocery shopping to pick up ingredients to make latkes. He remembered his grandparents making them when him and his parents stayed over for a few days. His mother refused to make them for him when he asked for them after.

Elle had told him that Hanukah wasn't a huge deal for her family either. It was a quiet holiday for her parents in Germany, especially right before the Second World War broke out.

"It wasn't until they got to America that Hanukkah became a big thing," She had explained to him a couple of days ago. "The rabbi at temple wanted the community to be involved and have something to look forward to in the winter, like how Christians had Christmas. So we'd give little gifts to one another and play dreidel and stuff."

He was kind of excited to celebrate with her. After turning down Yom Kippur and Sukkot, he'd felt a little guilty. At the time, he didn't think much of it. But after being faced with hate day in and day out, he wanted to learn more about his culture.

And so here he was, pulling his car up to the curb so that Elle could jump in from the snow currently falling around them. She greeted him with a kiss, her cold nose touching his cheek as she did, and they drove out to the store.

It was late afternoon and the store was quiet. It was only a week or so after thanksgiving, and a month until Christmas, so the shelves were well-stocked during the holiday lull. They strolled down the aisles, Elle reading from list she'd pulled from her jacket pocket.

Sour cream

Applesauce

Onion

Potato

It was simple enough, but that didn't stop them from messing around. When Elle sent him to get a tub of Daisy sour cream, he came back to her trying to reach a jar of applesauce on the top shelf.

He could have easily grabbed it for her, but instead opted to come up behind her and left her in the air. She let out a yelp and nearly elbowed him in the face until she saw it was just her boyfriend. She rolled her eyes, laughed, and grabbed the glass jar, asking to be put back in solid ground.

He set her back down and spun her around to give her a kiss. Normally he hated watching other people's PDA, but he could barely keep his hands off her. She broke the kiss and rubbed her nose against his.

"Come on Romeo, we've gotta get cooking by sundown, let's finish up here,” She hooked a finger on his belt, drawing him closer as she continued in a hushed voice. "We've got the night to ourselves, be patient and you might get a reward later,"

"Oh? What kind of reward?" He rested his hand on the small of her back, subtly drifting lower.

"It's something small. And lacy. You'll have to unwrap me to find out," He let out a short breath as she spoke, looking around to make sure no one heard that.

"Trouble," He gave her a light smack on her ass as she started walking toward the produce section.

"Only for you," She called back to him.

Only for him. All for him.

She had him grab onions while she looked for the best bag of potatoes. He put the newly-filled paper bag into their basket and started to head back over. He'd come up behind Elle, resting his hand on the small of her back to let her know he was there. He looked around the store as he waited, watching as a few people went by with their own groceries.

Suddenly, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see a familiar face looking at him from down the aisle.

A brunette was watching the two of them, her cart stationary as though she stopped to stare. It took a second to place her, but he remembered. She was from the klan bar out in the country. She was the one who wanted him to dance.

He stared back, waiting to see if she knew who he was. He couldn't quite place her expression. Elle didn't notice the interaction. She had turned to face him, tugging his sleeve to let him know she was finished. The woman's gaze shifted from their faces to their necks.

After the case was over, Flip had retrieved his necklace from his desk, returning it to its rightful place around his throat. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and Elle's uniform showed off her own Star of David. The woman's mouth drew tight and she walked off, not giving them a second look.

He thought about it all through the check out line and on the car ride home. That woman, who had spent nights on end checking him out at the bar, had just turned her nose up at him because of a necklace. Of course, he didn't want or need her attention, spending most of those nights purposefully avoiding her. What was bothering him was that without knowing a single thing about it besides his heritage, the woman had gone from pursuing him to being repulsed by him. The case was over, people had died or gone to jail, but the hatred still persisted. Had anything really changed?

He helped Elle unpack everything onto the counter, and she set him to work peeling and grating the potatoes as she diced an onion. The radio played in the background, thankfully the Christmas music hadn't started yet so it was just the regular rotation of pop music. Some pop group belted out their ballad as they worked in silence.

He handed over the peeled and grated potatoes to Elle, who was wiping her eyes with the corner of a towel, the onions proving to be potent. She mixed the two together with an egg. She instructed him to set a pan on the stove and turn on the heat. She formed patties with her hands and put oil in the pan, letting the latke crackle as it met the heat.

"You've been quiet, you got something on your mind?" She asked as she turned one over. Perfect golden brown.

"It's probably nothing. But I saw someone from the investigation at the grocery store this afternoon. A woman who frequented a bar the klan hung out at," He divulged.

"Do you think she recognized you?"

"I don't know, I couldn't tell honestly. But I think she saw my necklace. She was friendly before, when she thought I was Ron Stallworth, a brother. But she took one look at the necklace and suddenly it was like I was a piece of gum on the street,"

She turned the heat off and moved the pan to a different burner. She hopped on the counter, extending her arms to motion for him to come closer. He obliged, wrapping his arms around her frame, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arms reached up, embracing him. One hand ran through his hair in a soothing motion.

"People suck. She sucks," She said

"I just don't know if the case was even worth it. Sure, we got some good intel and some suffered consequences. But most of them are still out there, just living life. Ron told me he saw a cross burning from his apartment the other night. It's like nothing has really changed,"

"You changed,"

Her words confused him. He look at her, brows furrowed.

"When I met you, before this whole case started, you didn't seem to care too much. About who you were, where you came from, what others were doing in the world. This case changed you. I don't know what went on most of the time, or what you heard or saw but you'd come home angry and tired. But you also started forming opinions, taking interest in your culture and really thinking about what's happening around you,"

"So yeah, they might not have changed. They're gonna be full of hate and ignorance probably for the rest of their lives. They don't want to actually be better, they want to think they're better than everyone else. You, Flip Zimmerman came out of this a better person,"

He thought about her words. It wasn't something he really considered, but he supposed she was right. Things had changed for him. New place, new girlfriend, new perspective on life.

He kissed her forehead, a silent thank you.

"I love you,"

"I love you too. Do you wanna put some plates our for me so I can serve these up?"

"Sure thing babe," He let her get off the counter and start cooking again. He grabbed two plates from the cabinet, letting her alternate finished latkes between them.

The sun was just setting when they finished. They placed the food on the table and brought a bottle of wine out to share. Her menorah, one her family bought her before she'd gone off to college and had been with her ever since, was sitting proudly in the window.

A tiny part of him thought about how visible it was, the shiny silver with the white candles could easily be seen from the street. Thoughts of someone from the klan spotting it, someone seeing it as a bullseye for who to target their hate against. He knew what people were capable of.

"Do you know the story of Hanukkah?" She asked him.

He realized he'd begun to space out, and she had seen him staring at the menorah in the window. He had a feeling that she knew what he'd been thinking.

"Not really," He admitted.

A Syrian king named Antiochus IV sent his soldiers to enforce his rule. He had outlawed Judaism and any holiday or custom that had to do with it. Jews were expected to convert to following the Greek gods or die.

After the Temple of Jerusalem had been declared to be for the Greek god Zeus, a Jewish resistance movement led by the Maccabees began in defiance of this ruling. They fought against the Syrians in several battles and though severely outnumbered, won.

According to the legend, when the Maccabees entered the temple and began to reclaim it, they quickly went to relit their eternal flame on the menorah. In the temple, they found a single jar of oil, which would only light the menorah for one day. It would take eight days for a messenger to bring them more oil. But miraculously that one jar of oil burned for the full eight days, keeping the flame alive until more oil could be brought. Those eight days became the miracle of Hanukkah.

"It's about perseverance of our religion and culture. Hanukah means dedication in Hebrew. The menorah is displayed publicly on purpose, it's a way of asserting your faith for all to see,"

He understood what she was saying. This was an opportunity for him.

“I'd like to light the candle for the first night," He said after some thought. "If that's okay,"

"Of course babe," Elle responded. She brought over a candle she'd lit previously, handing him the shamash.

As she used her flame to light his, he thought about how the last time he held a candle was during the klan initiation. He had to stand up in front of a room and swear he was of pure blood. He had to lie, mask an entire aspect of his existence. The entire time he'd found himself thinking of Rosh Hashanah with Elle, the ritual and meaning behind the candles, how they were to usher in a new year and positivity. Holding the shamash, now lit, felt cleansing. The flame once again holding a uplifting meaning.

"Do you need me to guide you through the prayer?" She asked. He nodded. She spoke slowly, letting him take his time to recite.

Baruch atah, Adonai

Eloheinu, Melech haolam,

“Hah-oh-lahm” she enunciated, letting him correct himself.

asher kid’shanu

b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu

l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.

The first candle was lit, the flame dancing steadily upon the wick. He set the shamash back down in its holder and stepped back to look at it.

He felt Elle wrap her arms around his waist. He curled his arm around her, hugging her to him. They looked at the menorah, watching how the light reflected on the icy window pane, creating dancing shadows on the wall.

"How do you feel?" She asked.

A few months ago, he was in a completely different place, mentally more so than physically. He looked down at Elle, her big brown eyes staring back up at him. She looked at him with love, a feeling he eagerly returned. He felt at peace, he felt accepted and in turn, more accepting of himself.

"I feel like I'm home," He responded.

He was unsure at first, if she'd understand what he meant by that. But she just smiled up at him before resting her head on his chest. She understood, he was home.

______

Welp, that’s all folks! Thanks for reading this story, I had fun writing it! It was cathartic to write a Jewish-driven story, you dont get to see those often. 

Shalom aleichem

[thoughtfulpaperback]

Rant...on depression and toxic relationships

Ok so no one said anything or did anything in particular that made me want to rant, rather this is something that's been on my mind for a while and I sort of needed to vent especially after these last crappy 3 years.

So just a lot of background in 2017 my younger brother died in an accident. Everyone handles grief differently, I didn't handle mine at all. I arranged his funeral and picked his headstone and casket, I finished my last semester of college and got my degree, and helped start a scholarship in his memory, I became the speaker and awarder of another scholarship in his memory started by a non-profit, I started some masters classes over the summer online, got ready to move from a small rural idahoan town to Portland, Oregon, and supported my siblings as they grieved. My mom and grandparents (paternal) took it the hardest and I made sure I was there for them as much as possible.

Once I moved aand started school, while i loved the independence i had and I fell in love with the city, I struggled hard. It started off great and I was doing so well the first semester, then I was having trouble sleeping. I was staying up later and later until it got to the point were I wasnt sleeping at all. I would get the urge to pace around and do quick strides across the room and then hop back in bed. Then I lost my appetite, just wasnt hungry, then i lost my ability to tell when i was full or not. I wasnt hungry but i knew i had to eat so i would eat but just keep eating until i realized that i probably should stop after eating an entire pizza by myself or a whole Costco cheesecake (what the hell I wasnt even hungry?!?!). Then I started having anxiety problems, i would try to read for class or right a paper and my mind couldnt focus or think I couldnt write or remember the sentence I just reread four times. I'd get so angry and upset with myself that I would stay to throw up. And I couldn't stop. It got so bad that so much as looking at a book or opening my laptop would have me running to the bathroom. That's when I started isolating myself from the friend as i made there. I couldnt go out because I need to do school work (which never got done) and I would just spend the day crying in front of my laptop frustrated with myself and vomiting non stop. Then I became apathetic. I went from this organized strong focused lady who could finish college plan a funeral and make time to talk and care for her family and brother's grieving friends, to this lonely pathetic sick crybaby who didnt even want to talk on the phone with her grandma (how I saw myself at the time). I didnt want to go to class which I was loving at first. Then I actually started missing classes because I couldnt even get out of bed. But I wanted to I would spend hour in bed internally yelling at myself to get up, but it felt like the rest of me didnt want to listen and I started to hate myself for it. Then the suicidal ideations began. It was so subtle and harmless at first. I didnt want to talk to people but staying at home wasnt enough because they can come find me or call or whatever. But no one can interrupts you in the shower. So I started taking long showers. It was only once a day. Then it became twice a day. Then three. Showers turned into baths(which I hated as a until then) and pretty soon I was spending the whole day in the bathroom thinking about how much I just wanted to disappear. Just wanting to be left alone in the tub and never come out again. I didnt it think it was bad, but when I told my friend (who was seriously concerned at my avoidance of her and missing classes) she did think it was bad. I started going to a counselor and eventually started taking medication for sleep and depression (which was later switched to medication for PTSD). I finished the year and did well thanks to the support of my cohort and professors. Then my cousin died and I came back home to take care of my family. I took the year off. And in this year my aunt died, another cousin and this three sons were in a terrible accident which killed three of them and left one with permanent brain damage, and my mother left.

My mother leaving is kind of a big one because this isnt the first time. I just want to say that I love my mother and she has never physically or verbally abused me. But she is toxic as hell. She never grew up. Eloped at 18 to get out of an abusive household, had me at 19 and then my brother at 20, then my father died, she took care of us with the help of my grandparents for a while, then she took off for California with some guy and left me and my brother until her parents made her come back. Then she had my other brother. She was good for a couple of years and then had an affair and took off with some one for a couple of months, she came back. Then she had my sister, miscarried 2 times, and eventually had my baby brother (now 7). And she was mostly doing good, of course I was a co-parent, i took thier schooling and safety more seriously than my mom. If it wasnt for my grandparents, my brother and I wouldnt have had childhoods. He was my partner co-parent, but at my dads parents he was just my brother and best friend. My mom loves us but she is selfish. So I always tried to be selfless, but I also tried to give her the benefit of the doubt because she always comes back. She never apologizes or acknowledges what she had done she just comes back. It never bothered me before I just thought "well this is how she is and I mean she loves me and comes back, she isnt abusive so I cant complain".

Well she left in March and while my other brother and I had been through this and were just kind of indifferent to it. My sister was devastated and my little brother and his routine were messed up. My step dad was an angry mess and so I took care of them all and tried to be the adult (I mean I am an adult right?). I informed him of his rights and options such as divorce. He said he wanted to and I said I could help him with the papers. But I mean I figured she'd come back and i told my sister this over and over again. But honestly i was starting to become less indifferent as I watched what this was doing to her 16yr old psyche and how much it was hurting my brother especially because he didnt seem to understand what was going on.

She came back the beginning of this month after two weeks of coming back to the home to try to take her stuff, fighting with my stepdad, trying to take my little brother (not my sister which also hurt her feelings) and then stealing money from my brother.

And the thing is yall, I was ready and willing to just accept that and just do what we always do and pretend that it didnt happen even though for the first time (I was angry about it because of how much my siblings were hurting). But the thing is, my mother wont talk to me or look me in the eye. She came back and I tried to say high and give her a hug and she just avoided me. Which I was like ok fine you are in a mood let me know when that is over. Then my brother got into an accident (not fatal or serious thank God). She could have called me to let me know, to asked me to pick up the kids, to let me calmly inform them. She did not. She called my sister in a panic to tell her that my brother was in a bad accident (it wasn't) and they were looking for him and for her to find a ride home with a friend. This of course sent my sister into a panic attack she didnt know what to do or even if anyone had picked up our little brother. So she did what all of my siblings do when they are scared, in danger, or completely unaware of what they should do: She called me.

I calmed her down I told her to get on the bus and I'd stay on the phone with her. I had my grandma call the police department to see if they knew of the accident and could give information that would help me locate my brother (they couldnt) and had her call the school to see if anyone had picked up my brother (my stepdad had). I stayed on the phone with her as my grandpa drove me to the house to go get her because I didnt want her to be alone.

When I got there my mom and step dad had just arrived with my brother's (my brother had a panic attack at the wheel and went off the road into a field. No one was harmed but the policeman on duty saw it and my brother was taken to the nearest hospital because he hadn't calmed down and was having trouble breathing (he also has asthma). I get there check on him and my other siblings, we have a group hug (corny, but after losing our brother in a car accident previosly, we all were freaked and needed one). And my stepdad came up to me and thanked me for coming down to check on everyone. My mom rushed inside. I followed and she started putting pot and pans on the stove and didnt look at me. I said hi. She didn't turn around but said hey. I started to tell her what she should have my brother take for his nerves (old wives tale stuff but like in my mind it works so I am going to suggest it ok). Never looks at me. Or acknowledges what I am saying. Some I tell my stepdad. Look my siblings over one last time and head back to my grandparents house. On the way back I realize that she had no intention of calling me. She thought my brother had been in a bad accident, and she was not going to call me. I am the one who had to come tell her about my brother passing away. I left my grandparents crying and screaming (calling a bunch of people to go over there and be with them of course) to tell my mom about it before she heard it somewhere else. And she wasnt going to tell me that my brother was possibly hurt or worse. She rather let my teenage sister panic and try to find a way home by herself than to call me.

That hurt, but I was willing to let that go. I never speak ill of my mom to my siblings or to anyone in general. After everything I still couldnt because she is my mom and she came back and I know she loves me.

The she had my sister call me a couple of days ago to tell me she was dropping of my brother because he didnt have school and she was going to a job interview. Didnt tell me how long I'd be watching him (I asked and my sister said she didnt know). So I just figured I'd ask my mom when she dropped him off. I was waiting at the door for him and she practically made him tuck and role out of the car. She never got out never looked at me and my poor baby didnt have his shoes on the right feet or tied. I Had plans, canceled them because I didnt know how long he'd be staying (wasnt long). And she had my sister call (while she was in school) to tell me that she was outside when she came to pick him up. My brother was upset because he (while she was gone) became accustomed to being dropped off and left with me the whole day or weekend. So it was a fight to get his shoes on and him out the door. Again never looked me. I smiled and waved tried to get her attention. Nope. She didn't even get out of the car to open the door for him. He managed to get it just as I was about to go over and help.

I texted her happy mother's day. Nothing. I tried calling her to say it. No answer. Called my siblings to have them tell her I said it in case she didnt see the text. Nada.

I dont know what I did. What I do know is that I dont deserve to be treated this way. I never did. And that is actually super hard to admit because when we think of abusive and toxic, I wouldnt immediately think of my mother because even though she does things that hurt us, refuses to acknowledge it, expects us to take care of her and respect her time when she doesnt have any consideration for our time and property, she is my mother who loves me. She is the same mother who took us to pizza hut on Saturdays, to the pool and water park during the summer, who bought us Christmas presents, and who we have had good times with.

But she is toxic. she is emotionally manipulative and inconsiderate. I've made excuses and even blamed myself. Maybe I wasn't trying to communicated enough, maybe I made her feel unloved, maybe I am being sensitive since my history with depression and all that stuff. Maybe I am just misreading. Because it has to me, because she loves me so I must be at fault if she isnt talking to me.

But honestly, I am tired of blaming me. I am tired of being the adult in this relationship. I already have my personal issues. My future is pretty unclear as I try to decide if I want to go back to school (my grandparents are pressuring me just to get a job and stick around idaho), or if I still even want my Master's or If I want to do something else completely. Except for when I am watching TV or with my siblings and dog I am pretty much unhappy and confused all the time.

This year was supposed to be about self-care and healing. Not drama. I am just done.

I dont know what to expect into the coming year (in academic years not the year beginning in January) but I am done with self hate and I am done with toxic relationships. I probably cant take another year off without at least finding a job. But I don't think I am ready to go back to school (I miss it so much though), this break has felt more like work even with the fun tumblr convos.

Honestly thanks to the Charmed and Fallen Hero Fandoms because without y'all I dont know how I would have made it through all this. Also thank God for Hacy fanfiction because I needed good reading material in hospital waiting rooms, and in my moments alone to keep me from over contemplating on people who dont deserve it.

[spnbaby-67]

Spa fun

A/N: Awhile back, I had this in mind to do when I was sitting at a Spa getting my Mani and Pedi thinking of what would happen if Dean were to get one done. Well come to write it and something else hit my mind instead, Nonetheless, its still cute and fluffy. Let me know how you like it. it just a one shot that is helping me get out of my writing funk. just pur fluffy, and Dean being himself. No warnings.  please don’t copy and paste on other sites, likes comments and reblogs are awesome. Also i want to thank my new friend Joost @alfredde132e kind enough to help beta this. and very sweet to. (sorry i really don’t have a name for this one. let me know if you do)

Pairing: Dean and reader, Sam mention, receptionist unknown name (lol) 

Warnings: non, just fun stuff, 

Your entire body felt sore. A soreness that basically screamed for a massage. You hadn’t had one in years, and the thought of one now made you squeal with delight.  Only thing was, you had to beg Dean to take you. So you scanned the net for two days to find the right one, a couples massage close to home and at the perfect price you could actually afford.  Thing was,  how were you going to convince Dean to go with you. You had to come up with a plan, and if that didn’t work, you knew what to do. Closing the lid on the laptop, you went to go find him, he was where you knew he would be. In the kitchen drinking coffee. You go over to him, corner him, and kiss his neck.

His arm immediately wrap around your waist, as he allows you to continue. “Mmm, babe you keep doing that and I’m going to have to take you over my shoulder and take you back to the room.”  He let out a soft moan as you got a sensitive spot.

You didn’t answer him, just let your actions speak for you. From his neck you went down a bit to his upper chest, as your hands ran up the insides of his shirt. You whispered to him now that you had him entranced.

“A what?”  He asked you as you looked up from kissing his chest.

“A massage Dean. You know where you lay on the bed and someone rubs their hands on you as you relax.”

He huffed and turned around to wash the cup he had. “I know what a massage is yn, In case you hadn’t noticed babe, no one but you touches me.”

“And I appreciate that very much , but Dean we both need this. We have been on nonstop hunts for three months and my body is craving the attention.”  You begged as you stood before him chest to chest and your right hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be great, you’ll love it I promise. Besides, you will feel like a million bucks afterwards. Please babe for me?”  You gave him Sam’s puppy dog eyes he taught you as a sure fire way to get Dean to do almost anything.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Enough of the puppy dog eyes yn.  Remind me to shoot Sam for teaching you that.”

As if right on cue, Sam walked in hearing the last part. “Teaching her what?”

Dean turn to look at him, “You teaching her that look to get her way.”

He winked at you when Dean moved to put something back into the fridge.  “I didn’t reach her anything, Dean. She learned it on her own, besides, she’s pretty smart you know.”

“Yeah and I’m frosty the snowman.” He rolled his eyes then tried to get out of your grip.  “What?  No,yn. That stuff is not for me. Take Sam, he could use a day at the spa!”

“He’s not my husband, you are. Besides, it’s a couples massage. Please Dean, please?”  You held on to his right arm begging.

“You know it’ll do you good Dean, you could use a deep massage you know with the hot stones to relax your muscles and support the blood flow throughout your system.” Sam tried to give him the reasons and benefits of it to help you out.

“Seriously, we don’t have time to go to one of those places. We have hunts to do that’s more important, you know hunting things and saving people, remember?” he looked at both you and Sam.

Sam leaned up against the counter, “Actually, we don’t have anything right now. I scanned everywhere and it’s completely quiet.” He was backing you up, because he knew Dean needed this just as bad as you did. Hell, he could use one himself. But he knew not to interrupt you and Dean’s personal time. Besides, once Eileen got home from seeing some friends tomorrow he was sure to get one by her and vice versa. So, why not help you and Dean.

Dean gave him a bitch face look, “Seriously Sam? You’re going to take her side on this?” He grunted as he walked to the map table.

It can’t hurt now can it, besides, you need one. You’re so uptight and stressed out, i’m sure your muscles are crying out saying please do this please.”

He scoffed, and you could swore you heard him sound like a raging bull. You go over to him, and place your arms around his neck and look up at him. “Please D, for me? I’ll make it worth your while later tonight.”

Sam looked at you, “Nope, no, nada, I don’t want to hear it YN, See ya’ll later, you’re on your own on that one.” He smiled and left the room in a hurry down the hallways.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, just this once. But you owe me, and big time sweetheart.”

You stood back and clapped a bit with a happy face. “I’ll do whatever you want Dean, even try out that new position you been talking about.” you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Really? Seriously? You’ll do that?” he followed you to the bedroom to get your things.

“Yes Dean I will, and then some.” You said over your shoulder as he was following you.

A couple of hours later, and you two were at the Sweet Cherie Massage Parlor. Course, Dean had to mock at the name with a cheeky grin. “Wonder if Cherie is sweet.” he laughed a bit behind you holding your hands.

“Ssh, Dean.” You reprimanded him. “It was the only one I could find within close distance of the bunker and actually affordable.” You gave him a bit of the stink eye.

He leaned in closer to your backside and whispered in your ear, “You know, I could have given you a massage all over including inside.”

Your face blushed, that was true, he could have. But nothing beats a good old fashioned massage with hot stones, mud bath which you didn’t tell him about yet, and skin detoxification. You chuckled at the site in your head just thinking of Dean sitting in a tub of mud.

“Hi and welcome to Sweet Cherie's Massage, how may i be of service.” a perky young blonde sat behind the desk and was staring expectantly at you.

“Hi, my name is y/n and this is my husband Dean. I called earlier about the couple’s massage.” you held on to Dean’s arms as they were wrapped around your waist from behind.

She scanned the computer trying to find the reservation you had made, “Ah, yes. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell. Right this way.” She led the way to the rooms behind the curtain.

Dean looked at you, “Impressive,” his hand was on the small of your back.

You turned your head a bit to see him, “Hey, I know how to be protective of our names kind sir.” you winked at him when you two stopped at what looked like a tub in the middle of the room.

‘Um, what’s that?” Dean asked.

Amy interrupted you before you were to speak, “It’s a mud bath sir, it exfoliates the skin and removes the impurities from your body.”

“Ah, no. I am no way whatsoever getting in that,” He pointed to the tub, then start to turn around and go back out the front door, but you stopped him.

You placed your hand on his chest where his heart was. “Dean, it’s not that bad. It’s just mud, a special kind of mud.”  

‘Y/N, if i wanted to roll around in the mud special or not, I could always go down to the farm at our grandparents place and play with the pigs as an added bonus. No. I’m not going to get in that.”

You crossed your arms and looked at him. “Dean, you promised me.”

“I promised a massage sweetheart, there’s a difference between that and this.” he looked at you sternly, his jaw flexing a bit.

You rolled your eyes at him. ‘Fine, you go back to the house and be a baby. But just know that if you do, then all bets are off for tonight.” You huffed, you knew you had him then just by the look on his face.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “You are evil, you know that? You’re downright crazy to do this stuff. Then to make me do this, that’s a whole nother story.” He looked around a bit and spotted the technician that was preparing the bath. “You’re going to have to sedate me.” he looked around after she shook her head no. “ He growled as you and her helped him into the tub.

After two and a half hours at the spa, Dean received a full body massage, a mani and a pedi which he laughed through saying it tickled when they rubbed the bottom of his feet with a grater of some sort. Y/N couldn’t stop laughing at him, it was the best thing she ever convinced him to do. She took pictures and sent them to Sam saying he should post those on instagram or something. But Dean knew he would never do that, all in all he enjoyed the best day of his life and night to.

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[refusemyreality-blog]

Doin’ Good, Anon

“I cannot even tell my boss I grew up in a mobile home,” she says to me. She’s my sister, not quite three years my junior.

She’s at the top of a large non-profit in DC. She still shops at thrift stores, buys groceries at Aldi, and drives used cars. Her thrift is #TBT. It’s a matter of pride to pare down our closets and pay five bucks for a nice jacket. It’s a gift from our mother who garage saled, goodwilled, resaled us through childhood and adolescence. We grew up “kind of poor,” like one pair of flip flops for warm months, one pair of quality mary janes for church during the school year. When we ruled the trailer parks, rugrats on bikes, we wore twenty-five cent knotty knit jumpers from garage sales or my hand-me-downs. It comforted me to be stacked three girls to a bedroom. 

My sister and I had one authentic Cabbage Patch to our names. The third one of us got one my mom made from a kit. Cute as ours but not the brand and it did have that funny nose- two little upraised handlebars instead of a pert little nose. My sister’s had a funny name though. She could have sent in adoption papers to have it changed, but she kept it. At least the sister with the handcrafted patch doll got to name her own.

We each had stuffed animals of our favorite type. She had a mother-child monkey set. The baby sucked its thumb. All other toys were in the shared pool: battered tin kitchen set, Fisher price put-together train, riding horse, mini-tupperware dishes, fake food and grocery cart, plastic record player, Muffin Family Bible storybooks, and a box of cast off dresses for costuming.

Mom cut coupons on Sundays after dad picked out the parts of the paper he read with us on our orange swivel chairs in the living room. We’d help her organize them on those rare occasions she let us. Every morning, mom brushed our long locks into tight ponytails and trimmed the ends in the bathroom of our trailer (Baby curls trimmed by yours truly in great-grandma’s white bathroom while our parents were visiting. My mother discovered it the next morning and never let me forget that the gorgeous sweat curls around my sisters’ faces had be shorn away by me. Like I’d absconded with their beauty and made them plain jane white girls too early.) 

I was the oldest of seven kids (eight if we count the one wasn’t born). Most of them came home to the trailer and several came in seventeen months succession. (Them winters was cold?) The big fat break between this sister and me is one of the longest. Almost three years, because mom was sixteen when my dad knocked her up. They married a few weeks after he graduated high school. While she finished up her junior and senior years, my grandmother babysat me. My parents cleaned up before this sister. They quit toking up, smoking, found Jesus and moved into a bigger trailer across the street. 

This sister has a MA in Non-Profit Development from a swanky Philadelphia private university. She’s newly minted on the board of an East Coast private college in her denomination. She keeps her hair in a bob that she never has to curl. She barely blows it dry. She wears almost no makeup except black mascara to emphasize her eternally thick long lashes. She looks exceptional in a scoop neck shirt because she has thin broad shoulders that make her clavicles stand out. That’s a white girl beauty standard.

She carries herself like a queen. She’s barely been in debt since high school. She’s a saver, not a spender. A half-glass of wine makes her tipsy so she rarely drinks. She’s never smoked. Her skin has always been flawless except for that one well-placed beauty mark. 

People say she and I are alike. We share traits. But not beauty. I’m thicker in the face. I have dad’s nose and everything about his side of the family. Bulbous nose, dangerous incisors (they’ve been ground to look more normal but still stand sentry in front of all my other teeth. We were too poor to get the traditional American braces. This makes me relate more to the Brits. Mind my gap.) I have narrow shoulders, thick bones, mousy brown hair that gets nappy on the underside. And zits, still. 

I’m over forty and I still get zits. In high school I slathered them in toothpaste all night (some brute pranked me and said toothpaste would dry those red bumps. They only grew.) During the winter I smeared orange foundation from Big Lots over them. In the summer I baked them in the sun, then slathered more orange foundation on them.

But it’s not the variation in beauty that matters. It’s her comment.

“Why? You raise money for poor mothers and children.” Her organization gets women off the streets, provides medical care, connects mothers and children to basic assistance along with housing and education. I thought our upbringing motivated, at least in part, or that it would give her cred.

Granted our poverty is not like the women of color she raises money to help. We grew in Rust Belt white urban poverty.  My mom organized and handled the church food pantry so she could work for the with government cheese and donations like endless pints of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, dented cans of vegetables and freezer burnt gas station sandwiches that we ate once there were six of us. (Gardening to feed six kids? She’d have to crazy on caffeine. She gave up on gardens after two years of building a house while home-schooling the lot of us.)

We were never homeless. We had a safety net. My grandfather owned the trailer court. He gave my parents “free” rental space in exchange for tapping my dad for snow plowing, road work and cement laying on my grandfather’s schedule, of course. (Um, yeah, I’m gonna need all day Saturday to help me lay cement for.... Sigh. My father just wanted a day off. Maybe that’s why he volunteered to lead worship, Saturday night church school, the youth group and a crap ton of outings for our church.)

When dad got itchy to get out of the trailer life-- Quote: “I don’t want boys coming to pick my daughters up for dates in a mobile home park.” -- grandpa gave my mother her inheritance of five acres of land and we moved into a camper for nine months so my parents could build the house. Not have the house built. No. They built it. The aunts and uncles and grandparents and church folk kicked in so we could have a real house. 

So we grew up thrifty, boot-strappy, bleeding heart volunteering-types. Most of my siblings work with at-risk populations. Two work with addicts who have mental illnesses. My dead sister worked with high school girls in lock-up till she had kids and couldn’t afford daycare. Her husband works with teens on disability. One sibling is a nurse. Another sibling a programmer who adopted two kids with physical disabilities from the Philippines. 

I teach at risk high schoolers. Most of my students have failed so many classes or grades they are just waiting on eighteen and the right to drop out. The ones who stay have babies, parents who are dependents, crippling anxiety and depression or other mental illness, full time jobs, a history of missing thirty or more days of school most years, or physical illnesses or disabilities. Almost all of them grew up in need. When my assistant principal pitched the program, she recruited me because we both grew up white poor. I didn’t want to say yes. Teaching general education high schoolers is daily triage. And, I would be aiming right for the hardest luck cases. 

My other grade level teachers begged me not to go to the program. I tried some hang-ringing and soul searching and self-cajoling because this group of kids takes all my energy, but I couldn’t say no. I grew up around these kids, with single moms who have bad chunky highlights and don’t use the helping verbs before participles because they speak Hoosier. I might have been one, but I had what many of them don’t- a lot of breaks: my parents stayed together, my mom and dad kicked the TV out of the house and made music, talk radio and books our entertainment, then mom home-schooled us (with a rigor that surpasses most elite private schools, like “You will read the ENTIRE history textbook, answer all the questions and ace those tests. I don’t care how boring it is. Oh, and yes you will do thirty algebra-trig-geometry problems a day. I know you are cheating on the evens because the answers are in the back of the book and you didn’t show your work. Do you think I’m stupid?”). 

We had a healthy diet, mostly. My mom and dad gardened a big ass garden and my mother canned most of our vegetables for years. She sweated with the pressure cooker and the bulging veins of a constantly pregnant woman while shooing us outside to either A) shuck the corn so she could freeze cobs, B) ride your bikes and stop letting all the cold air out. Do you think we are air conditioning the neighborhood?, or C) swing on the swings, go the park or just disappear peacefully for a while because I’m canning while a baby is attached to my boob. 

Just after three pm, my father arrived from the warehouse. We’d spy his orange VW Rabbit coming down the road and run into the house slamming the aluminum screen door several times in succession and scream as we ran down the hall to “hide” so we could jump him as soon as he entered the house. Dad’s return highlighted our day. He’d shrugged us off after a lot of giggling and my mother chewing us out for waking whichever baby was sleeping. Saturday nights, after church, when we had popcorn and ice cream were the sanctioned “attack dad” nights. We throttled him with our pillows while he tried to tickle us. He laid on the ground while we beat him and he crawled at us threatening to tickle more than achieving it. Just the threat of his tickle made our sides hurt from laughing. Then he’d lay there, tossing us up and over his head in a twist, time after time until the butter brickle ice cream high, from servings the size of a tub of margarine, wore off. 

The next morning, he made us pancakes and fake maple syrup and took us to church where we slept off our sugar haze during a two or three hour song and sermon service. In the middle, we saw some Pentecostal action- flags waved, people dancing in the spirit, blowing a shofar (an animal horn), and getting anointed then “slain in the spirit.” In other words, we had extraordinary loving parents with a great work ethic and a network of friends who spoke ancient tales and metaphors to embed in us all the advantages that working poverty can offer. Most of my students lack those safety nets.Our poor life wasn’t perfect but it was good. I keep thinking it was a life worth living and one worth telling.

[mariacedano-blog-blog]

Beautiful Homes of Instagram Happiness has arrived! I honestly feel extra happy when I share a new “Beautiful Homes of Instagram” post with you. I find these posts are so helpful if you’re looking for inspiration because these talented homeowners are always full of incredible ideas and many DIY projects. Today, I am honored to feature Selena from @middlesisterdesign. She and her husband are a DIYers and I am sure your jaw will drop as much as mine did when you see all of the projects done in this house. I hope you guys have a great time and get some inspiration here to apply to your home! I am definitely sharing this post with my husband! “I am so honored to have our home featured on Home Bunch! When Luciane contacted to ask if she could feature it, I was quite shocked and beyond excited! To have our humble little home that we’ve poured our hearts and souls into displayed next to some of the most beautiful homes on Instagram is just such an incredibly exciting gesture. Thank you Luciane. And thank you all for visiting! Welcome to our home! A little intro to myself. I’ve had a passion for Interior Design and Décor for as long as I can remember. It was merely a “hobby” of mine for many years. Until 2 years ago I worked part time as a bank teller. One day my husband suggested that I pursue my dreams of having my own Interior Styling business. After a lot of deliberation, I decided to go for it and Middle Sister Design was born. I specialize, and take pride in being a more budget friendly, less complicated, savvy stylist for the homeowner who desires a well-dressed home without the large price tag. Simple, Smart and Savvy; that’s my motto! I began a Blog, have had much success with local clients and have loved every minute of it. (And have not once missed wearing heels to work, counting dirty money or trying to upsell. There’s still so much for me to learn and I have big plans for the future of my Blog and Business. When my husband and I decided to build our home nearly 10 years ago we had just been married less than a year. We had viewed many homes in the area’s “cookie-cutter” neighborhoods and while we were uncertain of exactly what we wanted, we knew these were not it. We decided to scour the internet for land as well as for house plans. My husband found a 2 ½ acre piece of land that was only 5 minutes from my childhood home and I found the house plans (we disagreed on LOTS of them before finding the “perfect” one.). We both liked the bones of the house plan I’d found, however there were many things we didn’t love and so we sought help from a local Architect and custom home building company. With their assistance, we made changes to much of the main floor plan. I would describe my design style as somewhat eclectic. Growing up in the South and in a more traditional style home, you will find a bit of it throughout my own. However, being a lover of trends, I do enjoy bringing pieces of trendy items into the mix. Neutral, natural, earth inspired elements are my favorite. My Grandparents lived on a farm and from my memories of spending the summers there stem an adoration for that lovely, cozy farmhouse feel. My take on modern farmhouse industrial and boho chic also play a part in this eclectic style of mine. I truly do have an appreciation for all the styles.” Beautiful Homes of Instagram We kept to the original plans for the exterior of the home aside from choosing much larger windows shown above as well as the Stacked Stone veneers from Eldorado Stone in the color Alderwood. We loved that stone so munch in fact that we decided to carry it over to the entire foundation all around the entire house. The siding is Vinyl in the color ivory and all gutter work and trim are vinyl as well in white. We have designed and installed all of the landscaping ourselves and while that is a job in itself, the toughest part is keeping the multitude of deer from eating all of our hard work. Porch Front Porch stain is James T Davis solid stain in the color Tree Bark. The swing is from Hayneedle and the wicker conversation chairs are from Pier 1. Rugs are from Target. Front Door Front door color is basic black exterior paint. Welcome Home! The front door opens to the Great Room which was actually 3 rooms on the original floor plan; Living Room, Kitchen and Dining Room. This, even on blue prints, looked incredibly cramped and we all agreed that an open concept would be a more unique and inviting look for this space. Another favorite unique feature of mine is the little “shelf” above the foyer’s close/master bedroom door. I chose to display the driftwood pieces my sister has collected from a nearby river for me over the years, knowing my love for it. Living room Sectional Sofa and chair in this space are the Ikea Ektorp Slipcover Series, both in Bleking White. DIY DIY Inspo: Bookshelves, side tables and coffee table were all built by my husband. Rug is Bleached Jute from Overstock. Fireplace We decided to take the fireplace all the way to the top of the high ceilings using the same stone used on the exterior – Stacked Stone veneers from Eldorado Stone in the color Alderwood. Paint Color Paint color for the entire main floor is Benjamin Moore HC-173 Edgecomb Gray. DIY Shiplap Kitchen The shiplap wall was added by us last year. We used 4×8 wood floor underlayment from Home Depot, cut into 6” strips and installed using liquid nails and a small brad nail gun, using nickels as spacers. It was such an easy project that creates such dramatic results. And best of all, incredibly inexpensive. Paint color is White. This open concept would require reconfiguring the entire kitchen layout which was tricky but in the end, we chose a unique island style and designed using Kraftmaid cabinets all the way to the ceiling to utilize every inch of this small space for storage as possible. Cabinets are solid maple in the color Biscotti. Dining room The table is a found item made from 100 year old barnwood. It was in bad shape when I found it but I put a little love into it and she’s as good as new. The bench at table, sideboard and industrial shelves were built by my husband. The two captain’s chairs are from Ikea. Rug is the bleached jute from World Market. Grasscloth shades are from JC-Penney. Doors The French Doors in the Dining Room were not a part of the original plan. In fact, there was only one small window here as well as in the kitchen area. The French Doors open to a large deck, also not part of the original plans. Landing Upstairs are two bedrooms and a full bath. The landing at the top of the stairs houses a chair that is a family heirloom. Another favorite space of mine. All flooring throughout the home is oak with the exception of two upstairs bedrooms. Neutral Bedroom Paint Color Our daughter is grown and no longer lives with us. When converting her bedroom into an office for myself, I wanted to keep a bit of “youth” to this room but also wanted it to be a place for guests of all ages to feel comfortable. I chose fun, on trend patterns and lots of textures for this space. The chair rail was installed when the home was built. Last year I installed the faux board and batten using 1 ½ inch lattice strips. Paint color on walls is Khaki by Valspar. Board and batten and all trim and doors are basic white paint. Simple. Bedding is from Pottery Barn and all furniture is the Ikea Hemnes series. Guest Bedroom The second bedroom has always been a guest bedroom but it too got the board and batten treatment last year. Wall paint color is also Khaki by Valspar. Bed & Bedding The bed is an antique, Amish made, chalk painted with Valspar chalk paint in the color Kid Gloves. French Provincial nightstand and dresser were mine as a child, painted the same as bed. Bedding is from various stores. I like to pay extra attention to detail as well as cost into the bedding of the guest beds. Linen, high quality cotton and extra down comforters are a great way to give that 4 & 5 star hotel feel. Master Bedroom The Master Bedroom layout is original to the plans. Of course, as mentioned before, with the exception of making those windows much larger. This is one of my personal favorite changes that we made. Paint Color Wall paint color is Benjamin Moore Edgecomb Gray HC-173. Shiplap Bed The shiplap bed, nightstands, bench and large mirror were built by my husband. The jute rug is from World Market. Bedroom Chair This slipcovered chair brings a relaxed feel to this farmhouse bedroom. Lamps are from Target. Antique Door Hung with barn door hardware, this salvage door adds so much character to the master bedroom. Master Bathroom When built our home we’d installed a jetted garden tub. Four years ago though, we decided to rip it out and replace with this Clawfoot Slipper Tub from Vintagetub.com. This is the Randolph Morris 67 Inch Cast Iron Slipper Tub. I cannot express how much I adore this tub. Also in this space, we designed a much larger window here than the original floor plans. One of my favorite pastimes during the snowy season is soaking here while watching the snow fall. Laundry room We reconfigured what was intended to be a mud room/powder room off of the kitchen area into a small powder room and laundry room. There were two reasons for this. One, taking square feet from this space allowed us to add them to the Master Bedroom’s Closet opposite the wall of this space. Two, making this space smaller meant there would be no place for an exterior entry door to enter the mudroom which worked well by adding a larger deck and doors in a different area, which I will describe below. We had decided earlier in the planning that a mud room was not necessary for us. The home has a full basement with garage. This is perfect for bringing in messes from long days of gardening or yard work. The industrial shelving were built by my husband. Powder room Here is the powder room. I decided to separate the powder room and laundry room with a pocket door which easily hides any laundry messes from potential unexpected guests- or when I simply want to “hide” it from myself! :). Towel ladder was built by my husband. Backyard Our backyard is currently getting a small makeover but I thought I’d share a photo of our firepit from last summer. I hope you enjoyed the home tour. If I can answer any questions, please feel free to contact me over on my blog. Interiors & Photos: “Selena Campbell“. Make sure to follow Selena from on Instagram @middlesisterdesign to see more photos of her beautiful home! See more “Beautiful Homes of Instagram“: @sweetthreadsco: Beautiful Homes of Instagram. @becky.cunningham.home: Beautiful Homes of Instagram. @Cynthia_Weber_Design: Beautiful Homes of Instagram. @theclevergoose: Beautiful Homes of Instagram. @cambridgehomecompany: Beautiful Homes of Instagram. @thegracehouse: Beautiful Homes of Instagram. @blessedmommatobabygirls: Beautiful Homes of Instagram. Click here to see all “Beautiful Homes of Instagram”. Posts of the Week Tuesday: Modern French Chateau Style Custom Home Design. Wednesday: Modern Cape Cod Home Design. Thursday: Coastal Farmhouse Interior Design. Latest Interior Design Ideas: Latest: New & Fresh Interior Design Ideas for your Home. More Interior Design Ideas: More Interior Design Ideas on Home Bunch. Trending on Home Bunch: Interior Design Ideas – a weekly series on Home Bunch. Popular on Pinterest: Interior Design Ideas. Popular on Home Bunch: Beautiful post featuring a collection of Farmhouse Interior Design Ideas. Follow Home Bunch on Pinterest, Facebook and Instagram. You can follow my pins here: Pinterest/HomeBunch See more Inspiring Interior Design Ideas in my Archives. Popular Paint Color Posts: The Best Benjamin Moore Paint Colors 2016 Paint Color Ideas for your Home Interior Paint Color and Color Palette Pictures Interior Paint Color and Color Palette Ideas Inspiring Interior Paint Color Ideas Interior Paint Color and Color Palette New 2015 Paint Color Ideas Interior Paint Color Ideas Interior Design Ideas: Paint Color Interior Ideas: Paint Color More Paint Color Ideas What a pleasure it was to share this inspiring home and story with all of you today. Selena truly has inspired me in so many levels and I hope you feel the same. Did you guys have a good weekend? We’re busy trying to decide what to do with two rooms we don’t use much in our basement. I have so many ideas and I wish I could do all at once but we will have to take it slow, especially after our busy (read $$$) summer. Either way, it should be fun! Sometimes you learn to appreciate even more the things that take extra time and planning to be done. Have a Blessed week, my friends and thank you for being here. This means so much to me. with Love, Luciane from HomeBunch.com Interior Design Services within Your Budget Come Follow me on Come Follow me on Get Home Bunch Posts Via Email Contact Luciane Save Save Save